Merry Happy Christmikwaanizkuh!

It's five to one in the morning, and I still haven't heard a peep outta Santa.
Christmas Eve is here, and not a creature is stirring - except for the mutant kangaroo mice my mom has in her house. I swear I saw one jump 18 feet from one side of the room to the other, and I wasn't even toasted on eggnog and Kahlua at the time. Was Madden any help? My dog is scared of little girls - you think he'd take on a mighty mouse? Yeah. Me neither.

It was a strange Christmas Eve. It didn't even feel like it was Christmas, and that didn't have anything to do with the fact we watched THE HEBREW HAMMER all night. We didn't light the menorah, spin dredels, sing Christmas carols, go to midnight mass... we just kind of chilled out.
Maybe the lack of turkey was what did it. The element in my mom's stove blew, meaning we couldn't roast the 30-pound bird chilling in the basement freezer. Instead, it was my sister's famous split-pea soup, complete with ham. (Let's just say it wasn't that kosher).
We opened up some presents, and I got some wicked ill gear. My sis bought me a pair of $200 Oakley boarding goggles, and my moms decided she'd drop a couple bills on the greatest video game of all time. I have placed my credit card in a protective and lockable container, where it will cool down from its holiday overuse. Love that 18.9% interest rate. I should be out of debt in, lessee here.... carry the one, add the seven, multiply by six.... Well, around the time there's a black female president in the U.S.

I will admit, it's always fun kibitzing with the family. Old memories are dredged up, bringing uncontrollable snorts of laughter along with it. There are times I wonder how I survived to adulthood, looking back.
For instance, things I actually did in my past, in no particular order...

- Climbed on top of stove, sat down, and turned on the element. My mom found me burning my ass off (literally), and I may or may not have a scar on my butt in the shape of concentric rings.
- Got a rock. Got a hammer. Got a shotgun shell. Hit said shell with hammer, thinking "COOL! Listen to that bang! I just put a hole in the shed! Neato!" I don't think it was intelligence that kept the bullet from being pointed at me when I hit it... Call it the luck of the retarded.
- Started a business in elementary school where I would climb on the school roof at night, avoiding cursing, broom-throwing Pakistani janitors, to retrieve balls, frisbees and any other toys that made it onto the roof. I would then sell them at recess the next day to the highest bidder. I then blew the money I made on hookers and blow. (the last part may or may not be true).
- Started my mom's VW van, put it in gear, and trundled towards a cliff with people running after me. I was 2 1/2, and couldn't even see over the windshield.
- Pantsed my sister in the middle of a mall in Mexico. She didn't talk to me for three months. She still won't talk about it to this day.

(Side note: Anya told some good stories, too. While we were sitting around, her laptop started a random slideshow of a movie she worked on in Mexico. The behind-the-scenes stories were even better than THE TRAILER, which was pretty damned good.)


I got lots more stories, and I'll have even more after today. Because Christmas Day, it's ferry time, crossing the Big Blue to White Rock, where we'll spend the day with my pops and stepmother.
And this time, I'd better get my turkey dinner.