My Christmas Eve is a night of heavy drinking, an elegant dinner (that would be more elegant were we not heavily drinking) and opening presents (because since we are heavily drinking, we are too hung over Christmas morn to feel very jolly). This year, my dad's Aunt Bernie was saying so many colorful things that I started texting them to myself. (Unfortunately, I didn't get to document the whole evening. I will take this project more seriously next time I see her.) I recently found the texts, and they really brought back that warm, holiday feeling:
December 24, 9:45 PM: "He was a scheister and a nasty ass" (referring to a Priest)
December 24, 11: 19 PM: "Is she still alive, that witch?" (referring to her step-mother)
December 25, 12:24 AM: "That Brian, I'll shred him to the last thread." (Brian is my dad)
December 25, 1:05 AM: "I don't like those big tall slutty looking boots." (As my mother opens a pair of big tall black boots that my dad has purchased for her.)
Oh, joy!
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