So, OK, I'm typing as softly as I can because there is some serious strangeness happening at my house.
See, the woman I married... the woman I had two children with... she's keeping a live tree hostage in the living room. Not only that, but she's hung lights on this poor thing along with weird round balls and like blown glass cats and dogs and an elephant and shrines to "little people".
I mean, this is some fucked up shit.
She's nailed socks to the walls above the fireplace and the kids are babbling on about how some fat guy from, like, up north somewhere is going to land on the roof along with a hoard of Scandinavian caribou.
Sorry, wait, missed a trick... FLYING Scandinavian caribou.
And apparently... along with the pine that is slowly DYING in front of me... my wife is BLACKMAILING the kids. She's telling them that unless they act according to her wishes the hefty dude from the wintery white won't show up and bring them presents (which seems FINE by me because who really wants some strange dude in a red suit... did I mention the BRIGHT RED SUIT... coming into your house and leaving a bunch of crap on the floor anyway), but here's the kicker... and I'm quite sure I'm going to get in trouble for this part:
The dude with the caribou... DOESN'T EXIST.
I know this because my wife has had me running all over town buying the crap that we are going to PRETEND that crimson extra-large will place under the expiring fir.
Yes, ME, the House Heeb, is being forced to create this ruse as a way of keeping my next-of-kin on the straight and narrow, when what it's really doing is make me question the VERY EXPENSIVE private school that I'm paying for, because, well... what kind of learned offspring would buy into this?
COME ON, the fireplace is tiny and they both saw contractor Dave put in the flu that makes it impossible for anything larger than a gardner snake to come down, especially if said gardner snake is carrying a practically LIFE-SIZE AMERICAN GIRL NIKKI DOLL!
And... and... wait... I forgot to mention this part; the reason for jolly caribou herder dude... for the decapitated flora... for the "you better be good" and the gallows inspired tube socks?
That would be some weird baby, born to a young woman who lied her ass off so her parents wouldn't find out she'd already had sex.
I mean... seriously... that was like most of the girls I went to middle school with.
Why can't I just go to the movies like when I was a kid!?!?