Merry Friggen Christmas!

Well, I'm leaving for the 7th ring of hell in the morning, or as it's more commonly known, Phoenix. I was summoned, once again, by my mother to join my parents at my brother's house. The same house that I've only been to once back in the summer of 2003 when he and I got into such a huge row that we had to leave each other's general vicinity because shit was about to be thrown down. I think our screams of FUCK YOU! NO, FUCK YOU! were heard somewhere around Madagascar. It was not good, times infinity.

Since that fateful fight, my brother and I have only spoken a few times, even when our small family was together last Christmas and for a week this summer at my parent's house. The story behind all of this is long and tedious, but he is one crazy mo-fo mamma jamma butthole and me doesn't like hims very much. And he's my mother's favorite. Can you fucking believe that? Me and all my fabulousness and she likes the poopy kid more.

I'm really hoping the next 3.2 days doesn't suck like donkey dick. We'll have 4 cranky adults, one puppy, and one spoiled 8 1/2 year old. Parrrrrtay. But I'm sure I'll survive. They might not, but I will.

Dear Santa,

I'd like a dolly that pees, diamond earings, and a industrial sized bottle of Ativan.

Love,

Betty.

That being said, I hope you all have a lovely holiday and I can't wait to read about the melt downs and food fights sure to come. I shall leave you with me at 4. I knew even then I could take the fat man down if need be so I wasn't a'scared like all those other kids wailing at the sight of a deranged stranger in a red suit. And please ignore his apparent inappropriate hand placement. It was the early 70's, we didn't worry about that shit. Merry Christmas everybody!



P.S. Rascal says fuck Christmas too. (Not pictured, Boo, who had a fit when I tried to put the Santa hat on her.) I'm a naughty mommy.