It's Christmas, Pretty Baby

The plan was to live vicariously through Sarcastro, but his mom forbid him from live-blogging Christmas. Which means that we've been denied all access to family fun, because the Butcher and I are doing Christmas by ourselves. The Butcher is trying to whoop up some ambiance by fighting with the television, but it's not quite the same thing. I'm making a roast and thinking about some potatoes. No one except our uncle B. has called to wish us a merry Christmas. We didn't realize that my dad had lied and told his family that he and Mom were down here with us. Oops, needless to say, we accidently let on that we were down here alone. Ha, I guess we can have some freaky holiday drama even when we're apart.