The Twelve Days of Hell...During and After Christmas!!

OK Kiddies, I promised awhile back to post the long-awaited (heh) sequel to my long-winded titled tales of the holiday season. I figured now's a good time to do it before I forget.

Anyways, in part one I discussed how there's three stages to my holiday season: birthday, shopping, and the actual holiday itself. The first two stages were tackled, so now here's Stage Three: Hannah's Happy (heh) Holidays 2004.

Anyways, it was the 15th of December or so when I got off my lazy ass and wrapped presents. By this time most of the family's gifts were under the tree, and I had to do the cram method. After that I didn't worry much until the 23rd, when you're this close to Christmas.

"But," most of you will say, "don't you ever get tempted to sneak a look at one and try to guess what it is?" Yes. One gift was a DVD, but as to what title it was eluded me. I was able to pull a Sherlock, though; in Eau Claire I was this close to purchasing Mars Attacks! but decided to save my money towards buying for the people on my list.

Anyways, going back on topic, it was the 24th. My aunt made it up from Waukesha with her traditional carload of fruit and homemade peanut butter cookies with the Hershey's kiss on top (which almost beats anything my mom makes....sorry Majah!). Turd Boy, aka UW-Platteville freshman, had been home for roughly a day.

This Christmas Eve was a bit hectic. My older brother had gotten the boot from his prior residence (that request came from the lady that shared the house with him), and was moving his stuff and his basset Walter the Farting Hound over here. Hence, plans for Mass were put off till the following morning.

Once Chad and Turd made it back, and my sister, her friend and her two boys, it was time for pigskin. The NFL bestowed on the Cheese and Beer State a Packers game. Not just any Packers game, mind you; it was a battle with the hated Minnesota Viqueens with the NFC Norris division title on the line. After roughly three hours of frayed nerves, the members of the household wearing green celebrated (NOTE: Only about three people in the house are actually Packers fans. I'll save the rest for a Super Bowl entry) and it was present time.

For the most part, I don't bitch about gifts...what I get, I get and if it's something I didn't particularly like at the time, I end up enjoying it weeks later. For the list that I had, I didn't do too bad. I can always use socks, so that was nice. Pants are nice, and gloves? This is Wisconsin, where it's either Damn Hot, Damn Cold, or What the Deuce is This? Gloves are nice. The last bits of clothing were fleeces...pink, gray, and Packers.

As for non-clothing, I now have a new Phillips portable CD player to replace my five-year old RCA (which still works but has a busted hinge) along with some batteries and blank CDs. Since it's Damn Cold, I got a few things of lip gloss because chapped lips can be a bitch. My sister gave me a Bath and Body Works card. Finally, the DVD....and if you didn't read what I posted earlier, go back and read it and then figger it out. :D

Either way, everybody was in a good mood, watching Dodgeball and drinking beer and wine coolers till they passed out.

At this point, I invite all of you to read my Christmas Songs entry, specifically the part with "Merry Christmas from the Family." After the prior stuff occured, we now qualify for this song.

First off, one member of the family after knocking back roughly four cans of Miller Lite, decided to hit a bar. Can you say "moron," boys and girls? As most of you can probably guess, it was just his luck Mr. Fuzz in his car was driving by. Can you say "DWI?"

Next off, Turd Boy started retching around midnight. The Old Man fixed him the wrong drink.

Christmas morning, my aunt was under the weather. Both Turd Boy and DWI Guy were passed out. My sister, still with antibiotics in her system from the Sinus Infection From Hell, dragged one kid over. The other? Retching. The Old Man wasn't feeling well, but it wasn't from the J. Bavet and Coke concoction. Majah was probably the only one not suffering from anything. I say that because I made it through Mass before I threw Pukeapalooza 2004.

No, the story don't end there, but it isn't as bad. Pukeapalooza was a one-day event (which stopped just before my Broncos delivered one final present), though I didn't have anything to eat till Sunday night. The bug passed through the family in no time flat. Merry Christmas, indeed.

With Christmas out of the way, our house has roughly a five-day reprieve before The Old Man has his birthday....he's a New Year's Baby. This time around the whole clan actually wasn't there; Turd Boy was with friends in Tampa watching the Badgers in the Outback Bowl.

My preparation for 2005 didn't take that much...I made it to the store on New Year's Eve...but there was NO BOONE'S!!! For one night Messrs. Martini and Rossi were my best friends. Either way, the bottle was gone after Conan.

New Years was quite the opposite of Christmas; no puking, no drunks, and the Badgers lost. :( But we did enjoy a nice turkey dinner and Majah's four-layer dessert (Cool Whip, chocolate pudding, a cream cheese/vanilla pudding combo, and crust. Yummy!) and Michigan losing the Rose Bowl.

Turd Boy returned on Tuesday with his birthday gift for The Old Man; Buccaneers stuff. Once again, you can read all about that in a few weeks.

For the most part, this holiday season was a bit more normal (considering the circumstances the year before), and the family was together (considering the circumstances going on today in other parts of the world, I consider that to be the greatest gift).


Here's to 2005.

Reality Bytes....Big Time

I admit, I'm a sucker for the reality stuff. My must watches: Survivor, The Amazing Race, anything featuring Real World, Road Rules or a mix of the two, COPS (the official television show of rednecks), and Dog the Bounty Hunter (yes, my tastes in programming are interesting to say the least). Other shows, like Fear Factor and anything on TLC, I watch bits and pieces. Then, there are those that once you see the commercial, there's no chance in hell you're even going by that channel when it airs.

Case in point; the worst piece of shite recently aired on TV. Also known as: Who's Your Daddy? To which the answer is, the New York Yankees....well, at least thrice. This show is what one would call "scraping the barrel" for ideas. To whit: a woman, given up for adoption eons ago, meets eight men. Out of those eight, one is her old man. She goes through a few elimination stages before picking the guy she thinks is her father. If she's right, she gets $100,000 and closure to some stage of her life, or something like that. If not, the fake daddy gets the cash, and the poor broad's heart is broken. And we laugh our asses off in the process.

Either way, based on summaries, the chick (who according to smokinggun.com did porno....well, this is the FOX network after all) picked right, and a bunch of sappy crap occured. Ratings gold, right? The TV Gods said no, and stamped the "BOMB" label on it. Hurrah! Hurrah!

Just when you thought reality couldn't get any worse....VH1, the network that also used to carry music videos but now airs a bunch of countdowns and stuff, is foisting three potential pieces of drek packaged as "Celebreality." I don't know, but I could think of several things you could do to me before I even watch that.

The first jewel is another season of The Surreal Life, or "The Real World with a Bunch of Obscure Celebrities." If you thought Brigitte Nielsen (remember her, kiddies?) and Flavor Flav making out incessantly was horrid, wait until you see the first episode. Obscure Celebs this go-around include Peter Brady, Mini Me from Austin Powers (welcome to typecasting Hell), Chyna from WWF, one of the GoGos, some female rapper, the first winner from that modeling show on UPN, and Some Other Guy.

The synopsis for ep one reads as follows: Annoying Obscure Celeb Kathy Griffin drops the gang off at their new abode, Mini Me and Chyna fight over a room, the model becomes a sushi table, GoGos girl and the model go skinny dipping, Mini Me gets drunk of his ass, and proceeds to bite off Peter Brady's schnozz. Nick and Jessica now look officially sane.

Yeah, and after that priceless gem comes Celebrity Fit Club, aka "The Biggest Loser with Fat Obscure Celebs." Eight portly semi-famous folk arrive, meet their helpers (none named Bob or Jillian), and proceed to lose the poundage. Also, there's a big-ass scale. I mean really big. Oh, yes, who's our test subjects? One of the Baldwins, one of the fat guys from Sopranos (not Gandolfini), Tootie from The Facts of Life, The Snapple Lady, Ralphie from Last Comic Standing, the Divorce Court judge, Biz Markie, and Mia Tyler. Yeah....I'd watch that.

(NOTE: Apologies to the heavyset who may read this. I admit, I'm on the chubby side as well. Any fat jokes are indeed that, jokes. I'd rather be heavy than a twig like all the women you see on TV)

Finally, completing the Triumvarate of Trite, for those who just can't get enough of the wacky misadventures of Flavor Flav and Brigitte Nielsen, Strange Love is your show. More shenanigans, and a sad moment when Flav finds out Brigitte's in love with someone else.

All premiering on the 9th, only on VH1. I'll forgive them only if I Love the 90s Part Deux is good, and they make a sequel to I Love the 70s.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go get the memories of these shows purged. See you around!