More Disturbing Christmas Memories
I come from a big family that is the result of multiple marriages. Our family photos often look like my parents picked up random kids from the side of the road. It’s a big, messy, loud and funny bunch of which I am the youngest. Here’s the kind of memories my family made this Christmas.
My mother added a patch to all the kid’s stockings. Each one was to illustrate our interests or hobbies. My brother’s had a guitar, my sister who is a doctor had a stethoscope and my oldest sister’s stocking had a suitcase because she loves to travel. What did mine have?? A shiny, sparkly purple patch that said FLIRT. It’s basically the scarlet letter of stockings. Great. My mother thinks my hobby is being a whore. Musician, Doctor, Jet Setter and our youngest the Hoe. Merry Christmas to me.
Christmas Eve we decided to attend a different church service than usual and ended up landing right in the middle of a Jesus Rock N’ Roll Christmas. We have a hard enough time trying not to laugh in church strictly because you are not supposed to. Imagine how well we held it together when my brother pointed out that the adorable teens dancing with wooden dowels as props were called the GOD RODS??? I mean, COME ON.
Christmas Day we went to the movies, Sherlock Holmes was sold forcing the boys in the family to accompany us girls to the musical NINE. I would actually have to move this movie from the musical genre and put it straight into burlesque. I could feel my step-father wanting to crawl out of his skin or earmuff us all as we watched half-naked women strip and breathe heavily in surround sound as a family.
Since my sister has become an OBGYN the word “vagina” seems to find its way into about 45% of every dinner conversation. This is up a significant 30% from last year. You’d be hard pressed to find a discussion or story in our family that wouldn’t make you want to blush or vomit at least once during a meal. My brother is petitioning a ban of all topics involving reproductive organs, a ban that he will certainly lose as soon as one of my sisters gets knocked up.
To make already weird conversations even weirder, there were two days over the holiday break in which my mother, siblings and I could not stop speaking in an accent that can only be described as Italian mixed with Mexican. Both ethnicities that none of us actually have in our genes. It sounded like we were all posessed by Nacho Libre.
I am so glad my mother misplaced her video camera.
At the end of the day my extended dysfunctional family is to credit/blame for my sense of humor and my big mouth. And I can’t thank them enough because I wouldn't have it any other way.
My mother added a patch to all the kid’s stockings. Each one was to illustrate our interests or hobbies. My brother’s had a guitar, my sister who is a doctor had a stethoscope and my oldest sister’s stocking had a suitcase because she loves to travel. What did mine have?? A shiny, sparkly purple patch that said FLIRT. It’s basically the scarlet letter of stockings. Great. My mother thinks my hobby is being a whore. Musician, Doctor, Jet Setter and our youngest the Hoe. Merry Christmas to me.
Christmas Eve we decided to attend a different church service than usual and ended up landing right in the middle of a Jesus Rock N’ Roll Christmas. We have a hard enough time trying not to laugh in church strictly because you are not supposed to. Imagine how well we held it together when my brother pointed out that the adorable teens dancing with wooden dowels as props were called the GOD RODS??? I mean, COME ON.
Christmas Day we went to the movies, Sherlock Holmes was sold forcing the boys in the family to accompany us girls to the musical NINE. I would actually have to move this movie from the musical genre and put it straight into burlesque. I could feel my step-father wanting to crawl out of his skin or earmuff us all as we watched half-naked women strip and breathe heavily in surround sound as a family.
Since my sister has become an OBGYN the word “vagina” seems to find its way into about 45% of every dinner conversation. This is up a significant 30% from last year. You’d be hard pressed to find a discussion or story in our family that wouldn’t make you want to blush or vomit at least once during a meal. My brother is petitioning a ban of all topics involving reproductive organs, a ban that he will certainly lose as soon as one of my sisters gets knocked up.
To make already weird conversations even weirder, there were two days over the holiday break in which my mother, siblings and I could not stop speaking in an accent that can only be described as Italian mixed with Mexican. Both ethnicities that none of us actually have in our genes. It sounded like we were all posessed by Nacho Libre.
I am so glad my mother misplaced her video camera.
At the end of the day my extended dysfunctional family is to credit/blame for my sense of humor and my big mouth. And I can’t thank them enough because I wouldn't have it any other way.
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1 comments:
Truth.
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