The best way to get over a guy...

is to get under a new one.

One of my favorite quotes from "Sex and the City". It's ohhh so true. :)

The full stories from the last post.

Below are the full (or, maybe condensed a bit) explanations of the event teasers I left you with on Christmas Day. I was drunk when I wrote them, by the way, so it's kinda amusing seeing what I wrote and now having to explain them. I've included the original text so you (I) can remember what I wrote. Here goes:

**Mom got effed up on Christmas Eve. Shocker.
Yeah, I may have mentioned before that my mom has an addiction to prescription painkillers that she won't admit to. She thinks my brother and I are crazy, and she thinks she doesn't have a problem. Anyway. She got all spaced out at my dad's parent's house and ended up eating pecan pie (or jabbing a fork into the full pie tin and missing her mouth on the way to take a bite) in a sleepy daze. I could have slapped the bitch, and would have if my grandmother hadn't have been sitting right there. Or if my brother didn't yank me outside.

**I spent Christmas Eve in a BYOB bar. Pictures will be included.
After said "high mother" incident, my brother and I grabbed a bottle of bourbon and went to a dirty bar that serves beer only (that's why we brought our own bottle) and listened to drunks sing horrible Christmas karaoke and play pool. I think at one point I floated above my body, looked down, and realized how pathetic it was to be sitting on an old spool that was serving as a bar stool, swigging cheap bourbon out of the bottle, with a guy with one eye hitting on me, and my brother off-key-karaokeing ZZ Top with a pool cue as his fake guitar. Then I just realized that's life and tried to make the best of it. And here are the pictures. Excuse the quality, they're from my Blackberry, in a dark bar, with a not so sober hand holding the phone.

The sum of our bar experience: Beer, bourbon, quarters for playing pool, and smokes. KLASSY.


Me standing next to the neon Christmas tree, swigging my cheap bourbon. My bro thought it would win for most pathetic Christmas card.:


My brother holding a Christmas card some 500 pound man gave me. You can see the upscale bar atmosphere in the background.


**Snuggie action.
Nuff said... here's a picture of my dad in the pink snuggie Santa brought me:


**Waffle House.
You should know this story by now. We get yummy Waffle House every Christmas morning. This year I actually got to sit my ass on the couch while my brother had to get out and pick it up. Ha, sucka!

**Drunken Santa present giving involving Twister and a broken lamp.
Since my brother and I had been at a bar on Christmas Eve, we were not sober when we got home, and had to put out MP's gifts from Santa. We got everything set up, got in bed and had almost passed out when MP woke up and said no way she could sleep and ran in the living room before I could stop her. I had to get everyone out of bed so they could see her open her gifts, and we ended up drinking coffee at 1:30AM and watching her play with everything. This included Twister. My brother volunteered to play with her, lost his not-quite-sober-yet balance, and fell into that table up there in the picture next to my dad, and broke the lamp. Here's a pic pre-disaster:


**White Elephant gift exchange almost coming to blows.
I got a margarita machine out of the gift exchange, and everyone wanted it. That simple. But I ended up walking away with it, thank goodness.

**Whiskey, beer, and karaoke.
I think I've told this story already. Damn, I was drunk when I wrote the list.

**Drunk uncle who never drinks slurring words awesomely.
My super straight laced uncle put away an entire bottle of Crown, and entertained me ALL Christmas day. Since I was drunk as well, I can't remember what he said. Dammit. I know he had some great drunk slurry made-up words.

**Family arguing abundantly.
But that's a given, right? Especially when your mom takes non-prescribed narcotics and ruins the 6th Christmas in a row.

**Cheese dip ruining my expensive peacoat.
I was in charge of bringing the crock pot full of cheese dip back from my grandmothers, and that was a bad idea. I was drunk, tripped over the cord, and the crock pot spilled the lava-like Velveeta all over me and my coat. Thankfully, I have finally located all the areas of cheesy gooeyness and removed them. Only took me a week.

So. Merry freaking Christmas. Hope everyone had a wonderful one... and my New Year's Eve trip to New Orleans post will follow soon. :)