My arrival to Boston last Thursday coincided with the following tweets…

“I’m on a plane to SEE him and my dad is still emailing me tardy cat videos. God, I love my family.”

“Well, hello, Bahstun. You’re looking very white. (Double entendres are fun!)”

“Just saw a cab in Boston called “The Ride”. I wonder if that was its Jersey Shore generated nickname.”

My dad and sister picked me up, and we sang holly jolly Christmas carols the whole way home… until a rendition of Silver Bells stopped us up.

Me: Hmmm. Is this Stevie Wonder?

Dad: No, it’s a woman singing.

Me: No way. It’s definitely a black man.

Dad: Listen to it, it’s absolutely a woman!

(we listen for a few moments…)

Dad: Actually… I think it’s Michael Jackson.

Me: So we’re both right!

We continued to battle the Mass Pike and finally made it home, where I was greeted at the door by this.

Clearly, this is the family from whence I came.

Love.

We had some of my family’s oldest friends over on Christmas Eve, where my mother shared her all-time FAVORITE joke with us… at the dinner table.

“What’s brown and sticky?”

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“A stick.”

I won’t lie. I snarfed my meatball chowder at that one.

So, Christmas at my house has always been… a bit of a spectacle. I don’t know when or how it started, but every year, we have a “theme” of some sort. One year it’s sock monkeys, another it’s flamingos… you get the idea.

This year? It was ugly Christmas sweaters… and the most ridiculous hats my mother could find.

Trust me... it's a blessing that it's blurry.

The stockings, "by" the chimney with care.

Embracing my roots... however they may emerge.

Rocking my champagne, klassy style.

Just a little casual civilized chatter on Christmas morning.

This was from four people. FOUR. My family is insane.

All in all, it was the most perfect day in the world… just like it is every year.

/Schmoop.

Other tweetings through the weekend…

“I AM WATCHING JULIE AND JULIA WITH MY FAMILY AND GAIL THE SNAIL IS IN IT AND NO ONE UNDERSTANDS. The pain. It is PALPABLE.”

“My father just referred to me as their (four pound) dog’s “big sister”. Apparently, I have some Yorkie in my bloodline I was unaware of.”

“My mom just downloaded Chumbawumba to her new Droid as a ringtone. … ‘Nuff said.”

“There is a girl who looks like @clevelandsaplum’s doppelganger across the restaurant. Trying to resist the urge to squee and hug her silly.”

“I feel like Blair Waldorf with my headband in this awesomely dirty Worcester bar.”

“Me, to sis: “Wanna go to Target?” Sis: “Mehhhhhhh… let’s go to WalMart instead… so I don’t have to put on pants.”

“THE DOLLAR TREE JUST RICK ROLLED ME. Love it!!!!”

Hope yours was just as- well, maybe HALF as- ridiculous as mine.

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Announcements:

1. I did the round-up for DCBlogs.com today! Check it out.

2.I won’t be doing a TMI Thursday tomorrow, as no one’s really around… but we’ll be back in full force next week with another Post Secret version. Keep sending ‘em in!

3. Hey… did you get a chance to vote for me on 20SB yet? Just sayin.

No TMI from me today (though I will link yours!), as I’m jetting home to Massachusetts for the holidays. But I leave you with this…

My dear (equally sick-and-twisted) friend Mr. Condescending sent me a little Christmas present yesterday… and after I stopped squealing with glee, I knew it needed to be shared.

You see, Mr. C is a master of all things photograph-y. So, he took a picture of B and I…

and he guido-fied us.

The Jersey Shore's got NOTHIN on us.

(This is, in case you are somehow unaware of America’s latest abomination, a reference to MTV’s new show “Jersey Shore”.)

It’s absolutely perfect, Mr. C. Though next time, might I request that I also be wearing a Bump-It?

PERFECTION.

Happy Holidays, kiddos. Travel safe and all that. Now go get lost in some eggnog (or wine in a can!)

Awesomely bad TMI Thursdays this week…

Tania’s TMI Tuesday

Floreta’s Part II: Wherever the Wind Blows Me

Griffin’s TMI Thursday: The V-card Vlog

Sebastian’s With apologies to all the women I have loved this year

Joshua’s TMI Thursday: Vignettes

amber murphy’s TMI: Christmas Edition (subtitled, the 100th post had to be good.)

JewliaGoulia’s TMI Thursday – 2nd Edition

As I’ve said before, I love, love love love Christmas. Celebrating the holiday at my grandparents’ farm in upstate New York is my favorite day of the year, every year. (Although June 20th 18th is a damn strong contender this time.

But first, of course, we had to GET there. Traveling on the 23rd of December? Notsomuch.

I left my office at 2:30 pm…

We finally pulled into my parents’ driveway in Massachusetts at 3:30 am.

And have I mentioned that the flight from Baltimore to Providence… is an HOUR?

It was so unbelievably painful. Our flight, which was supposed to take off at 6:55? Did not actually take off into the air until 12:45 am. Apparently, our plane was coming from the Midwest, which was getting hit with snow. There were two other flights leaving for Providence that night, at 9 and 10. They both left hours before ours did. *&*#Y%(Y*!(*@%PCY!(%*&

Yeah, we could have stood in the 50-person line and tried to get on one of those flights, but I already knew every flight out to Providence, Hartford and Manchester (all a similar drive to my parents’ place) was sold out. So, we did what any sane person would do…

Stooled up at the bar and got wasted.

It actually worked out pretty well- we met a really interesting guy, Dave, who was one of the security guards in the airport. He was on our flight as well, so the three of us spent 3 or 4 hours getting to drink each other under know each other over the large oak bar top. We seem to have quite a knack for meeting characters while traveling, although Dave never shot a 6 year old (whether they deserved it or not).

But of course, we did eventually make it home, and in the morning, I was absolutely thrilled to see that I was guaranteed to have a white Christmas:

My parents’ back deck:

At least, it all seemed beautiful… until we realized the ice on the roof was forming a dam, and water was leaking into the kitchen. So, against my father’s protesting, B climbed out on the roof (Dad can’t fit through the window) and chipped at the ice dam with a sledgehammer and rock salt. Thanks to him, not one drop of water dripped into the house while we were at my gramma’s.

I did get out there to help for a bit… and to photograph his plight. Have I mentioned that I’m a great girlfriend…?

Best. Snowball weather. EVER. Lemm, I brought this back for you…

Somebody had the right idea, curling up by the fire:

Then we finally got to grandma’s for the big day. Here’s our stockings pre, on Christmas Eve…

Stockings Post, on Christmas Day… Impressive, no? Christmas always has a theme. This year was penguins…

There’s been monkeys, howdy doody, flamingos, wax lips, you name it. And of course, there’s always the obligatory picture of the entire family wearing the ‘theme paraphernalia’… but I’ll spare you that. (Really, I’m sparing my fam the humiliation, but shh, don’t tell them.)

And finally, here’s the always-enormous Christmas tree, stacked to the hilt with presents (there’s usually ten or so people involved, so Christmas morning is kind of a big ordeal).

And under the tree after the pets got to it. (Definitely the pets, and not me…)

Sigh. It was a very Merry Christmas, y’all. I hope yours was just as much fun.

All right. After what I did to you yesterday, I think we all deserve a funny. And it ain’t the baby Jesus’ birthday anymore, so let’s talk about sex, baby! With everyone’s favorite Sexpert, Eugene Mirman…

BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Priceless.

Oh, and YES, I will totally be doing that finger-blowing-off-gun move, repeatedly, for the next month. Get ready for it.

Okay, now that we’ve covered sex, it’s time for some drugs!

And of course, you can’t have sex and drugs without a little Rock ‘n Roll…

A special thanks to my baby sister for introducing me to this comedic genius. Yesterday was more than just Christmas Day for us… it also was the first time I got WASTED with my little sis. Here’s to you, punkin head. CHEERS.

**Written on Christmas Eve and scheduled for Christmas morning. And yes, I know it’s supposed to be TMI Thursday, but some things are more important than poop. Yeah, I said it. Merry Freaking Christmas, y’all.**

Right now, I am surrounded by my amazing and hilarious family in my grandparents’ house. This is the house that means Christmas and family and warmth and happiness to me, more than any other place in the world. I am getting choked up watching the man that I love converse with my grandfather. I am reveling in the opportunity to help my grandmother put dinner on the table. There is way too much food, the stockings are overflowing, and the presents are growing exponentially underneath the impressive tree.

Laughter echoes throughout the bustling rooms. Every corner of this house radiates with my family’s history; where I come from, and how I came to be what, where and who I am.

This is one of the last of many, many Christmases I have spent in this remarkable house, and I’m frantically trying to savor each minute… to sear into my brain every detail of her mannerisms, every nuance of his movements, for safekeeping.

Because it won’t always be this way. They’re in their eighties, and I know at some point the inevitable will come to pass. It has to, as unimaginable as it may seem today, as I walk around the home they’ve spent a lifetime in together. They are my childhood, my history, my genes. They created the chances that I’ve had. They made my life possible. They made it amazing.

Today, I am grateful that I get to share this experience, this enormous part of who I am, with the man of my dreams. I am grateful that he will see it and know it and understand when I make demands about traditions and the way things have to be over the next 50 Christmases. I am grateful that I ever had it to begin with, as I know so many of you out there come from families who struggle over the holidays, or even ignore them entirely, rather than relish every second of the schmoopy togetherness of it all.

Believe me, friend… I know how goddamn lucky I am.

This evening, my grandmother turned to me in the kitchen as I relished the opportunity to help her prepare hors d’oeuvres (and wine, of course).

“He’s a good one,” she said, pointedly. “You hold on to him.”

“I know, Gram. He really is.”

“I have a good one too,” she said thoughtfully, my Papa shining in her mind’s eye.

“You sure do,” I smiled. “So does my mama [her daughter].”

“She does,” my grandma agreed.

“But honestly, with such amazing role models, how could I settle for anything less?” I asked, meaning every word of it.

“That’s true. You couldn’t,” she agreed. “I’m just so glad…” She trailed off, but we both knew what she meant… I’m so glad to know that you found that Special One… while I was still around to see it.

So am I, Gram. And thank you, so much, for showing me what that kind of love really means.

Merry Christmas, everyone… I hope you enjoy yours as much as I will mine.

XOXO,

LiLu

If you remember from last Wednesday, I haven’t exactly been having the best week. On top of NOT SLEEPING EVER, I found out I have to have oral surgery in a couple days, and for the past week most of my meals have either been soup… or looked like this:

Yeah. That used to be a chicken nugget. ONE. Deeeeeee LISH. I’m either 5 years old, or 95. Also, shuddup about the fact that I’m eating off a paper plate on the couch under a comforter. Sick = all normal human functioning rules of etiquette and decency go out the window, obviously.

Anyhoo, we all know the one thing that DOES make me super happy and joyful is THE HOLIDAYS!. And you’ll remember that B and I had a little trouble decorating our first-ever Christmas Tree in our first-ever home:

Um, yeah… cute, in a sad way? Maybe?

So one night this week, after I’d been pouting (read: crying) about the pain and lack of solid food and oodles of medication and impending surgery and overall UNFAIRNESS of it all, B took the opportunity to pull out a new, fully functioning string of soft and glowy Christmas lights (the original strand we’d bought was half busted). I watched as he painstakingly threaded it around our lil tree, making sure it was even, as I am anal about my Christmas-tree-lighting technique. Then he threaded all of the colorful ornamental balls (ha!) I’d bought with paperclips (thanks Little Ms. Blogger!) and decorated the branches, one by one, until it was truly boo-tee-ful:

When he was done, we turned the lights off for the full effect of True Christmas Spirit:

And it was truly lovely. My heart warmed as I thought about all the fun that lay ahead in the next few weeks; month, even. All the family and fireplaces and gift giving and strangers smiling and warm drinks and good friends there will be… how could I be anything but happy?

And then I snuggled up to B on the couch and said,

“There’s going to be a lot of bad days… and I want you by my side for all of them.”

He starting to hug me, then thought about what I’d said and pulled back, laughing.

“Wait, what?”

I realized how I’d sounded and tried to correct myself: “Well, you know, I meant, like, over forever!”

He continued to laugh at me and said, “I know what you meant. It’s just never been presented to me quite that way.”

“Whatever,” I pouted. “All I meant was there’s gonna be a lot of shitty days, and I want you there to suffer through them all with me.”

Ah, love… I know these guys know exactly what I meant.