Christmas Eve is always a fabulous time for me due to the fact that my family is so incredibly dysfunctional. Everyone drinks brandy old fashioneds beginning at about 3 p.m. It is downhill from there.
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I got asked "Are you seeing anyone?" and "You're not married yet?" at least 264,000 times last evening. I'm 25 and have not yet reproduced. I best get on that.
Who else's family eats raw ground beef and onions? What about meatballs and mini franks in jelly sauce? I feel like I should have gone to the OCB for some healthier fare.
My aunt argues about money with my mom, basically over how my aunt is going to sue everyone once my grandmother dies because there has always been such inequality.
My pedophile uncle ogles little nieces and nephews. We have to watch him. He should be locked up.
My other uncle waxes poetic about God's blessings and how we shouldn't exchange gifts, just love. I think that he's a closet swinger, gay, or both.
There were 40+ people there last night, crammed into a small living room and I always get stuck making drinks and taking care of little kids. I always use birth control, folks. I don't need your little bundle of shit kid stinking up my lap to remind me not to let some guy I meet at a bar fuck me without a condom.
My dad always gets drunk and falls asleep, inspiring my mother to call him "worthless on holidays" or something worse. It is so predictable that everyone mimics her words.
My crazy uncle has a large, brooding dog that sheds everywhere and has breath so bad that you can smell it from 7-10 feet away. The fucking dog ruined a pair of my favorite shoes last Christmas, so this year I wore tennis shoes and told my uncle that if the dog bit me, I would take my curling iron to his scrotum. Sadly, I think that may have turned him on instead of scaring him.
During gift opening, people passed around a bottle of Rumpleminz and everyone was drinking from it. I gave up common cup communion long ago, and said that I had to drive home so that I didn't have to partake in the germ-infested sacrament of familial drunkeness.
My little overweight cousin was so excited to open another violent video game that he was out of breath from extruding the Xbox title from a tightly wrapped box. He waddled downstairs to play the game immediately and we saw neither him nor the tray of cut-out cookies from the remainder of the night. The kid is 11 and has diabetes. Am I the only one who thinks that his mother should be institutionalized? She feeds him candy bars and pop tarts for more than half of his meals.
One of my other cousins just popped out another kid, which she sadly brought along because "everyone wants to see the baby". I wish that they wouldn't make such assinine assumptions. The kid is 12 days old. Stay the fuck home. It is bad enough that you don't make enough to support the kids that you have and have to borrow money to buy diapers and gas for your rusty old SUV, but then you have another kid? My God, PP gives away condoms. It isn't rocket science.
The scariest moment of the night was when another drunk cousin started kissing everyone. If I was married to his wife, I would consider kissing the disgustingly bad-breathed dog an upgrade, so I don't blame him, but he's a little gross himself and his kisses last about 1.5 seconds too long. I used to be TERRIFIED that he would slip me the tongue, and though he never did, I long-ago decided to make like Forrest Gump and runs for the hills. Last night, I cleverly resorted carrying gifts out to the car for another relative during the kissing assault. He was too drunk to notice that he didn't kiss me. Whew! He then drove home, which makes me believe in natural selection more than ever.
I also got yelled at for wearing jeans, but why wear a skirt when a pedophile and a Rottweiler are around you all night? I don't know which scares me more.
The only highlight of the whole night was that my favorite gay cousin got my name and he bought me the most fabulous gifts of the night. Everyone else should have been jealous, but they have no idea what any of the stuff I got was all about--furthering my theory that my relatives believe that Milwaukee is made up, yet everything they see on television is "real".
Finally, the night ended for me about 11:45 p.m. when they were going to start looking at family slideshows. I've seen them for 24 Christmases, I don't need to go for a quarter century of seeing what my mom looked like as a size 6 or laughing at the fashionable nature of flannel before its time.
Next year, I'm bringing a black transvestite named "Chris" as my date. We'll make out and make everyone jealous and really uncomfortable.