Saturday, December 23, 2006

The Unspoken Epidemic: Christmas Crack

Starting around October 24, when the Halloween parties start and the candy starts getting passed out, my children lose their minds. This lasts until after Valentine's day, when the last of the candy gets scarfed or thrown away, we all take a cleansing enema and a shot of tequila, and get back on track for the middle of the year. This October-February phase of each year is what I called the season of Christmas Crack.


Running around with no purpose, dancing in circles without music, contortions of the body that would give me a crick in my neck, and all sorts of behavior that make mothers and fathers want to get out the duct tape: these are all symptoms of the Christmas Crack disease.


One of my girl friends called me last week, and when she asked how we were, I replied, "Well, you know. The grownups are surviving, and the kids are fully overdosed on Christmas Crack." She did not think this was funny and actually sort of scolded me for not just recognizing that our precious little offspring are just full of the glory of God and the wild anticipation of our savior's birth, honey. I beg to differ. Only speaking for my own...my precious offspring are stoned on the sight of presents with their names on them and an endless stream of chocolates, cookies, and trips to see Santa.


Now, I have proof.


Below: Rufus exhibiting type-A Christmas Crack addiction behavior.


Dear Santa...


Santa Goozie
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.
Here is what Rufus's letter to Santa, which appeared in the local paper said:


"Dear Santa: I have been a good boy exept I got in a bar fite. You should have seen the other guy. I want a Star Scream Soopreme for Christmas. Thank you very much."

We Have To. It's Tradition.

What does a dysFUNctional family do when they have their first child? Head to the snow covered mountains and sub-zero temperatures. What about when the second child arrives and gets asthma? Pack up that nebulizer and head for the snow covered mountains! How about when the Queen Mother gets her eyes laser zapped so she can see? Ask the doctor, "Do you think high altitudes will affect the healing? Cause we're leaving for the mountains tomorrow." Make note of confused, concerned look, pack up and head for the mountains. So, of course, what else could we do on two-day's notice, but tell our bosses that we had "serious family issues to address," pack up, and head for the mountains?


The hoodlums stayed here, which meant that we got to spoil, spoil, spoil the Goozie girl.


Very fine escape.

And Lo, Her Opinion Was Known

Goozie has all kinds of ways of expressing herself. In this family, he or she who screams the loudest gets ignored but he who cannot stop talking gets called Rufus. So you've got to have a wide range of talents for making yourself heard. Goozie's first foray into the "I am woman hear me roar" involves our old standby, the raspberry. When she gets mad, she spits.


Behold...


Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Weekly Photo for YM: PRUNES!

Our newly ack-wired skill: impressionistic art in the finger painting medium.

Added bonus: lovely facial.

Second added bonus: prevents constern-I-pay-shun.

Have a Sucky Christmas!

Happy holidays from Boudreaux, Goozie, Rufus, and MY BABY THE DYSON!