Ho, Ho, Holy Cow I can't believe I'm at work

When my mother started dancing like a drunken Korean sailor, that’s when I reached for the wine bottle. The first wine bottle. Followed by many more.
Alternating between slamming back a mug-full of mead and dabbing the blood trickling from my eyes — bleeding from the sight of watching my mother, the woman who gave me life, rub and touch herself in places that she should NEVER do in front of her children — I reflected on the meaning of the holiday season: memories.
While my mom finished telling her tale of some south Korean sailors dance suggestively in front of her at a bar to the dinner party, and I dabbed up the rest of my blood with the napkin, I realized that we had indeed added another thread to the tapestry of Holidays at Home.

Highlights of the Victoria Trip
— There's a new addition to the family: Raven aka. Rave-On Bling-Bling Kleiman, my mom's five-month-old Portuguese Water Dog. She's black, shaggy, hyper-active and adorable. She also eats anything. And I mean ANYTHING. . . even my grungy-ass socks. There's a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle that won't get finished because 10 per cent of the pieces have been turned into chewed-up wads of cardboard. Or, in some extreme cases, turned into something you find on the bottom of your shoe.
— Dinner at the Kools: Long-time friends of the family, a great deal of time was spent on the topic "Stupid Things Jake Did as a Kid," including the episode "Hotel Arizona: The Blazing Inferno," (those of you who know are still sworn to silence), or the equally entertaining "Plaster of Paris Kitchen Floor Sculpture." Oh, yah — it was loads of fun to hear about all that stuff. The evening ended, for me, at least, with my mom's (excuse me for a sec.... gggAAAAAAGGGGGGG) Korean Sailor Striptease.
— The Reuniting of the Three Musketeers: For the first time since college probably, me, Jeremy and Greg all hung out together, and it was like we were still 18 again. Literally. Things got a little crazy, a little wilin', mostly due to our good friends, Captain Morgan and Mary Jane. And somewhere, hungry and alone, a man is wandering around downtown Victoria without his chicken pita and diet ice tea. (Note to self: do NOT eat anything smothered in hot sauce and onions, unless you enjoy the feeling of said condiments trying to burn a hole through your chest.) The day after, with me feeling more hung than Ron Jeremy, my mom took my sister and I to see Pulse: A Stomp Oddessy. MMmmm... just what a nauseous, head-throbbing idiot needs to have inflicted on him — a six-storey high IMAX movie about DRUMS. Ever seen an IMAX movie while hung over? Don't.
— Lots of Other Stuff I Don't Have Time To Get Into: I'm at work while I'm writing this, and I'm on an early deadline. So it's the crib-notes version. Apologies.

I'll get into the whole White Rock Experience tomorrow, but for now, I've got a sports section to get out. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!