The wife knocked the Xmas gift exchange out of the park (again) by procuring me an official Tyler Durden leather jacket and This Is Spinal Tap Collectors Edition on DVD ("The question is how much more black could it be? And the answer is none. None more black.") I got her jewelry and perfume. I am the best husband in the world. Aside from skidding our truck into a ditch and having my brother-in-law tow us out with his penile enhancing mega-vehicle and than having said skidded truck's battery die on my parent's driveway, our baby Jesus day went off without a hitch. As of post time I am sitting at PDX minutes from procuring a rental car and driving down to Eugene to spend the week with my wife's family. We also plan to renew our love affair at the Heceta Head Lighthouse as the romance is dead in our marriage. Happy holidays, loyal readers of the MB. I hate all seven of you.

Labels: travels, wife, xmas

My Dad is a difficult man to buy presents for. When prodding him for gift ideas he usually mumbles, "I could use some golf balls" and than quickly changes the subject. Last year my Mom suggested we get him some new basketball gear for Christmas as Dad still rocks the Larry Bird Scrotum Fliers on the court. He kept the Dri-Fit shirts we bought and took back the baggy shorts. I am happy to report he is now tucking his Dri-Fit shirts into his High Thighs. I fired off on email to Mom this morning asking her what the old man could use and she replied with this gem:

The Greatest Hits of Air Supply and a small AM/FM radio for his office.

My Dad is a cyborg from the future sent back through time with only one mission: to keep the 1980s alive.

Labels: family, xmas

Christmas came and went without much aplomb; spirits were imbibed, holiday cookies were devoured, presents were opened, kittens went bezerker rage on their stockings and cousins in from Baghdad with an affinity for strip clubs and Heinekens were entertained. The wife got me some new creative direction slippers to keep my feet warm while I command oversea subcontractors from afar and utilize new Apple products in the home office. It appears I will be getting screwed out of another work snow day tomorrow as the Kwanzaa Blizzard rolled into the metro area this afternoon to blanket the foot of snow not yet melted from the Hanukkah Blizzard.

Labels: blizzard, colorado, l-i-v-i-n, snow, xmas

The future wife and I have been wallowing in our own filth and muscular atrophy (Read: on vacation). When presented with the choice of showering, posting to the MB or watching three-star movies on cable television for the past three days, we have been going for the latter. Here is an incomplete list of the Christmas booty I tallied this year:

• New golf bag.
  
• Dark brown Donnie Brasco leather jacket (see second gangster from the left directly above Bruno Kirby).
  
• Assorted sweaters not of the seasonal print and Cosby design variety.
• Assorted button down shirts of the striped, metrosexual variety.
• Colorado Avalanche hooded sweatshirt that will magically fix the team's goaltending woes and teach Patrice Brisebois how to play defense.
• The books Freakonomics, Teacher Man, Angels and Demons, Slapstick, His Excellency and Idiots At Work.

I will not be posting any 2005 retrospectives that include major news events, major life changing events, places I traveled to, New Years resolutions and any other end of the year bullshit cliches that populate most blogs. I will be spending the upcoming New Year holiday playing in an ice hockey tournament and toasting warm Canadian Hunter with a hirsute family member, his wife, Mister and Misses Chili Dog, Monica, her pretty boyfriend Matt and my beautiful future wife.

Labels: chili dog, kaye, mons, nels, wife, xmas

My three year-old nephew possesses toys similar to these. He does not own the Fantastic 4 Electronic Thing Hands instead he has the Incredible Hulk Electronic Hands. He does not own the Revenge of the Sith Energy Beam Blaster but he does have the Revenge of the Sith Lightsabers. I am proud that my brother-in-law is raising his son in the danger zone. It is going to be a great Christmas for the boy; he will be receiving some Air Kicks Kickaroos Anti-Gravity Boots and the Camouflage Water Bomb Fun Kit from Uncle Matty. I may include a bag of glass, some oily rags and a pack of matches just for good measure.

Labels: bro-in-law, tomfoolery, xmas

Christmas came and went like my first college girlfriend; happy and magical in the beginning but quickly degenerating into a miserable coma-like limbo where my emotions froze and my body metabolized alcohol with the efficiency of a Nazi general. I made out with holiday gifts like two groping teenagers in a PG-13 movie. Aside from a pile of clothing and art supplies, I received high-ticket items from my lady (digital camera) and the parents (barbeque grill) and a most excellent scotch sampler from Jake (as I type this I am enjoying a nice glass of Oban). Posts in the next few weeks will be scant as I knock out a freelance gig, sexify the MB for 2005, snowshoe, play in a hockey tournament, polish off a scotch sampler and generally enjoy my time off from work. Peace on earth and all that shit. And fuck you, tsunamis.

Labels: drinking, hockey, jake, wife, xmas

My boss just gave me a bottle of Greg Norman Estates Shiraz 2002 for the holidays. I am assuming the Shark makes a pretty mean wine despite his colossal chokes in major tournaments. When it comes to wine I honestly do not know what is good and what is not (my experiences are limited to thumb hole jugs of Riunite and the assorted boxed blends of Franzia). It is time to break out the good glasses, honey. Daddy is bringing home some Christmas wine.

Labels: data slaughterhouse, drinking, sports, wife, xmas

Sixty pound tumors, beating down old ladies with raw lumber and attacking Jesus statues with axes.

Labels: disease, random, xmas