My family is incapable of celebrating a holiday in any sort of normal fashion. Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthdays, hell, Boxing Day, there is some sort of major dramz that is bound to happen. On the up side, it provides countless hours of material and laughter, on the down side, there's no amount of Xanax or red wine to keep my nerves steady through what can be 72+ hours of what seems like a bad scene from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, although we can make Jack Nicholson look like Doug Funny compared to some of the stuff that goes down at my house. This Christmas was no exception.
We had quite the spread: crabcakes, shrimp, gourmet cheeses and bread, dips galore and enough wine to make a large village in Moldova party like it's 1992 and being accepted into the UN was as easy as becoming the Republic of Moldova in the first place.