25th of December, A style

Okay so, for those of you still reading this over the holidays, I bet, I just bet you expect a christmas post, dontcha? Well okay. But only because I have something to write about.

The morning of the 25th, at 2 am, Victoria and I walked home to D&R's to sleep (finally). And man the things we saw. The party was still going strong -- people puking, people crying, and several people pissing. One in particular who actually caught my eye as I passed and gave me a once over.... while he was taking a leak. Oh baby, you know how to get me going.

"Victoria," I say. "This is some christmas, huh? You and me, out on the streets of Munich at 2 am, on our way to sleep alone for a measly six hours before we need to get up again, being checked out by drunken guys holding their d***s. I guarantee you'll never have another one like it."

Almost 12 hours later, we're rounding up our holiday with back to back episodes of Jackass, Beavis & Butthead, laundry, and craptastic quizzes from a French Cosmo.
According to the French I am under the illusion that all men are fantastic. Which many men in the world can attest is certainly not the case.

Anyway, it wouldn't be my yule celebration without a little familial tension, a little anti-christian sentiment, and a little weird ass shit.

Tomorrow I have to sing christmas carols. My dad wrote out the words to the Huron carol... because it's like, you know, Canadian and shit. Which totally means at some point my parents are going to offer us up like some choral sacrifice to the gods of paralyzing embarassment.

Sweet.