photo blog: a christmas story.

CHRISTMAS EVE:



What? There's a man? With a big poofy white beard? And he says HO HO HO?! So friggin' what? Oh really? He just...GIVES you...presents? ANYthing you want?? All you have to do is write him a letter? Huh. I'm kind of ticked. We didn't have THAT back at the cabbage patch kids house.



What the hell! He won't give you presents if you cry a lot? Even if you're a baby and can't help it? What kind of stinking deal is that??



Well, then that means I won't...I won't get...I won't get any....



Santa sucks!!



What was that? Oh. Ha ha. Veeery funny, mommy. I will spit up in your hair tonight, the first chance I get. No, no. I don't care if it was just a joke. I am not amused. No, not even on Christmas Eve.



However, I'm done crying for now. For the rest of Christmas Eve. Just in case. I don't trust you people. Or old men who dress in red velvet and ride around screaming HO HO HO! What fools come up with this stuff?

CHRISTMAS AFTERNOON:



Babies in Christmas outfits their daddies bought them are far too cute for their own good.



Do a little dance...make a little love...it's Christmas night.



Christmas at Grammy's. It was the only place the baby got to see Christmas decorations on her 1st Christmas, since the mommy was too friggin' tired to haul all that crap out and put it up and then take all that crap down and haul it back up the attic.



My brother and I, circa 1986. Stylin'!



The gluttony of Christmas! It's so...so...AMERICA!



My mom wiped out on her chocolate covered cherries. They were still edible, even smushed. Plus my mom was wearing socks so, you know. No toe jam to worry about.



Christmas bath time!



In Grammy's 5-star resort oversized garden bath tub, the tub with the heatilators to keep the water warm and the jets to massage away all your childhood stress. While watching the Disney channel on the in-wall LCD television.

We're all going to GRAMMY'S for summer vacation from now on! (Grammy and Harry will have to get a hotel room elsewhere.)



"Merry Bubbles!" screamed Grace. Did I mention there is wine during the Christmas bath? (Kidding! We're not the Lohans over here...it was just Coke.) (But my sister in law and I do have a twisted sense of humor...especially after we've had a few glasses of wine ourselves.)




The Samsons: creating lushes since 1908.



Sorry, kid. You're too little this year for Christmas baths. And kiddie wine.



Fine, fine. But next year, I'll be expecting my kiddie beer when I open my presents.



He's got a naked fetish; what can you do?



At least they can convince him to keep his underpants on now. That's his new friend, Cat, by the way. Cat, the robotic cat. Cat is soft and white, and very, very cute.



....his sister asked for a D-Rex, on the other hand. She's not into tea parties, you know. So! Lame!



...but they heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight: "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

ho ho ho, Christmas is exhausting, yo.