Come on in and check out our holiday photo album!
Giddyup, cowpokes! This is not a Halloween picture. My mother used to dress my brother and I up in ridiculous outfits like this for EVERY GODDAMNED HOLIDAY. Laugh while you can, Mom; at the first sign of age-related illness your ass is going in a home.
Finally chopped off the big lumberjack beard I grew during No-Shave November. I look 15 years younger, but my face is FREEZING.
My brother, modeling the Christmas sweater and vest his boyfriend crocheted for him.
Durian – it’s even worse than you’ve heard. My beautiful and talented cousin Lindsey thoughtfully decided that this year for Christmas she would give the entire family the gift of puking our fucking guts out. Any hard core fan of Food Network can tell you this stuff is legendarily foul smelling, but I assure you that until you’ve experienced the complete sensory torture of three – fucking THREE – different types of durian, you have no clue how absolutely wretched this stuff is.
Pictured here are the chips and the durian chocolate “loaf.” Not pictured is the durian taffy, the worst of the lot, which filled my mouth with the taste of vinegar, cabbage, banana, avocado, and, more than anything else, old-school silicone caulk fumes and PVC pipe cement (I am in no way joking about any of that). As taffy will, it stuck to my teeth and would not come off, so I had to keep tasting it, and tasting it, and tasting it… I tell you this: it is not possible to believe in a benevolent god after you’ve experienced durian. No such deity would conjure a thing like this into being, nor would such a god permit it to exist if it were somehow created by external, presumably demonic, forces. Seriously, durian will make you an atheist.
I can pack more Christmas cheer onto a three foot tree than any human being alive. There are 300 lights on this son of a bitch, and that’s not counting the working strand of old school bubble lights. I fuckin’ RULE!
December 22, 1992
There has never been a time, ever, no matter how bad things are for me, when looking at this picture does not make everything in the world just a little better.
“Big hands, I know you’re the one…”
I have big hands. I can span the first nine frets on a standard acoustic guitar. That’s 17 playable piano keys. “Why in the hell,” you may wisely ask, “would I ever need to know this, and what does this have to do with Christmas?” Well, continue to the Christmas cookie pics and all will be revealed.
Every year my mom makes cookies for Christmas, and every year they seem to get bigger and bigger. They were epic already, but this year’s were the biggest in recent memory. This is a chocolate chip, my second favorite that she bakes. My favorites are her peanut butter cookies, one of which was once so big around that it eclipsed my head as I ate it. Afterwards it felt like I’d eaten a full meal.
Last year my cousin Heather and I went to Union Terminal for the holiday train display and antique toy exhibit. Any excuse to visit Union Terminal is a good one.
Boxing Day, 2008
Hofbräuhaus Newport. Great beer and great times with family, and they even let you draw on the tables. Prost!