Aaanyway, we had dinner at my sister-in-law's house at 4:30 pm on Christmas Eve - my brother-in-law doesn't like to eat late. Most of the dinner conversation progressed something like the HBO pep talk from Washington Capitals Coach Bruce Boudreau. If you haven't seen that, you should YouTube it. I found it very uplifting.
One dinner topic was a synopsis of Margie hitting a deer last week. She has since had the car fixed... or at least the headlight. My sister-in-law, Kathy, was riding in the car and the two were chatting about the latest County news while going about 100 km/hr. All of a sudden, Kathy points out the windshield and screams, "Holy Fuck! Deer!" As a result, the bumper was pert near ripped off and the deer was off in the bush. Arrangements were made for a roadside abattoir and Kathy tried not to puke while the deer was skinned and dismembered. Recipes for venison sausage were exchanged and there was a general feeling of having won the lottery in spite of the damage to the car. Speaking of which, during her call to the O.P.P. to report the accident, Margie's final words were, "Can you make it quick? I'm on my way to BINGO and I don't want to be late."
Christmas Day, we went back to Kathy's house for breakfast. Hijinks ensued. There are almost 10 of us around the picnic table in the kitchen - Big Reet, Big Rod, Big Paff, Candoo, Joey, Ralphy, Keith and myself - plus my three great-nephews: Jordan, Carter and Carson. We were all enjoying a traditional breakfast with several Pillsbury Cinnamon Buns. Ralphy asked her mother for one with extra icing, but while she was eating ham and eggs drowned in ketchup, her husband, Ryan, started eating her sticky bun. Rod and I were snickering and Ralphy couldn't figure out what was so funny. When she finally realized, she called Ryan every name in the book and asked her mother for another. Within a minute, Ryan was secretly scarfing down her second cinnamon bun. Ralphy took her third cinnamon bun, the last of the batch, and covered it with one hand while she finished her breakfast.
I was in the other room when I heard the screaming. Ralphy had to grab her sticky bun back from Ryan, who tried the old smash and grab technique. She had it for a millisecond before Rodney grabbed it back from her and tried to smoosh it in her face. The poor girl was face down on the picnic table with Rodney's knee on her back, howling through a mouthful of toast and defending herself with her hands while trying to prevent the icing from getting on her new Aeropostale hoodie. Oh, what fun family is.
Rodney had Christmas dinner with his other niece and about 75 of his closest family and friends. We currently have 15 great-nieces and -nephews on his side alone. One of these great-nephews, aged 4, was starting to act up a bit and his mother gave a loud sigh to tell him he was pushing his luck. "Mom," he said impatiently. "You said you weren't going to yell anymore." Apparently, he misunderstood her New Year's resolution to keep her cool with unlimited permission to misbehave.
He will likely grow up to be like his Uncle, who called Rodney's cell phone at 2 a.m. after attending a Christmas party in Picton last week. I will remove the expletives from his conversation, just to save space. The message he left was, "Hey, buddy. I love you. I'm on Upper Lake street freezing to death. Can't get a ride home. I've got no friends and I think the old lady kicked me out." When he got no answer from Rodney, he called 911 to plead his case. "Yeah, I'm out here freezing to death. I can't get a cab. You guys have got to do something. If I stay out here much longer, I'm gonna be a popsicle. I pay my taxes! You need to send an ambulance or something."
A cab showed up shortly and he received a call on his cell from the local O.P.P. who very politely explained the 911 system. Apparently, whether or not we pay our taxes, our emergency operator is not available for public transportation.
But, the best story I have heard this holiday season is the shit story. The moral of this story is - Please tip your housekeeper. My niece, Candoo, works at a local Inn. As any accommodation housekeeper will tell you, people are real pigs when they don't have to clean up their own mess. She was called in to work early one morning only to be sent to a room with a plugged toilet. One of the guests had taken a big shit that wouldn't flush and contacted front desk to take care of the situation. Now, in the same situation, there is no way in hell I would call a stranger to come to my room and chop up or plunger my excrement. I would sooner scoop it out of the bowl with the coffee pot and toss it out the window than deal with that humiliation. But, these people (and many others, I hear) just hung out on their bed, watching tv while their housekeeper pulled her uniform up over her nose and went to work.
Not to be outdone, Ryan told about a relative of his who was in Zellers when he got a case of the runs. He had his pants halfway down his ass when he ran into the publlic bathroom only to find every stall in use. So, he popped a squat in the sink. When one of the men from the stall came out, he was already washing up. "Check out THAT mess," he said nonchalantly, gesturing to his loose stool in the sink while he walked out the door.
The best thing about family is taking their money and starting fights. If you want to do both, you should play "Pass the Ace". Simplest card game ever. Each player needs 4 quarters to play. One quarter goes into the pot to start the game. Dealers take turns clockwise. Each dealer gives everyone a card face down and puts the remaining deck in front of him/her. The person on his/her left choose whether to pass their card to the left or keep their card. Aces are the lowest card and Queens are the highest. You can't refuse to take the card unless you have a King. If you have a King and someone tries to trade cardes with you, you should obnoxiously flip it over and yell "BAM!" because it basically means they are screwed. If the low card is passed around back to the dealer, the dealer may cut the deck to try to get a higher card. Once this is complete, everyone reveals their cards and the lowest card pays a quarter. If the lowest card pairs up with another player's card, they are safe and cannot be the loser. That means the second from lowest card holder has to pay a quarter. Once you lose all of your quarters, you have your honour. If you lose your honour, you are out of the game. By process of elimination, the winner is the last person to win a hand. That person gets the pot with all the quarters.
Let me tell you; It doesn't matter if you love your husband or your sister or your brother-in-law. When you play this game and you sit beside any of these people, you will call them really awful names, try to start a fight, punch them, throw things at them and mabe even try to set them on fire with your cigarette. I've seen it happen. Merry Christmas!
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