Over Christmastime, I spend time with more family than I ever remember that I have. Sister, brothers, aunts, uncles, children, friends–all of whom I don’t see often.
We don’t see these family members often, so it’s always a new experience. It’s always an adventure. It’s always pretty fucked up Every time Adrian and I do our Holiday Round-Up Tour, we get to see, hear, and say the weirdest shit you can imagine.
Such as the following to children:
- That’s not how you spell whore. You are missing the W.
- We can only have one thing: Donkey Show or Christmas Tree. Which one do you really want?
- Yes, if you want to dress up in front of the Christmas Tree with your Donkey Show dress you can
- Because it’s not polite to fart on my toast
- Oh, it’s an X-Wing Fighter. I thought it was a dildo for a second.
- Never, ever repeat that word ever. I slipped.
- We don’t say things like “I love the taste of blood.”
- We don’t say it because we’re Transylvanian and people ask questions.
- No, I won’t let you die on the tubes like last year
And to Adults:
- I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over this Alan Jackson Yodeling Contest
- I’m sure I’ll find a place for this 18 Month Bieber Calendar
- Jackoff Contest with the shaky flashlight—GO!
- I know it’s tough for women to lace up snowboard boots, but I’m fuckin’ sure I can figure it out
- It’s tougher to explain racism within the bounds of a 5-second-rule, sure
- This salsa tastes like I got throat-fucked with celery
- Now he has a salt-gun for bugs and wine for the front porch? We don’t need more help being redneck.
- It’s not unchristian to play drinking games and eat Dairy Queen on Christmas day. This is my body, this is my blood. Right?
Christmas is a weird time, you guys.