I was raised a good little Jehovahs Witness. That's right. The ones who come knock on your door on saturday morning, can't celebrate birthdays or the good holidays (just a crap passover knock off), and any other number of unspeakable things.
As a result I have never celebrated Christmas before. I was always tempted to write in to a Santa-drive charity with a sob story about how my parents and I could never celebrate christmas so I wanted back-presents plus interest.
So as you can imagine, never trimmed a tree, never gone shopping for presents, never made crappy ornaments, never watched crappy claymation. NOTHING! But thank god for fellow JW kids gone bad.
My dear friend Becky and her sister are also escapees from the Jehovahs Witness religion. They were kind enough to invite me up and let me spend my holidays with them.
Christmas Eve consisted of lots of booze and laughing. Even some eggnog and cookies. The bad thing is as JW kids neither one of us knew what you put in for a little punch to the eggnog. The jury is still out. But we did get to watch the timeless classic A Christmas Story--thanks to TBS playing it for a solid 24 hours. Let's face it--the holidays are all about over doing it. This was just a prime example.
Christmas day we went to her sisters to eat ham and watch everyone tear into presents. We listend to the South Park Christmas album because we need traditions ya know? I was not disapointed with presents. I got quite a haul myself! After dinner conversation involved a ponderance as to if my friend's brother in-law was wearing underwear, and her sister putting her head in her hands saying, "oh god was he wearing his teeth?" More laughter ensued the rest of the evening.
Friday was spent in an 8 hour American Chopper marathon. My friend is madly in love with Paul Jr. the designer if you will of these motorcycles for Orange County Choppers. It's a great show, don't get me wrong. I just know jack shit about bikes. But somewhere during hour four of our marathon I was introduced to Mikey of OCC. I think it's safe to say I found my soul-mate. (If nothing else, my identical hair twin--no not the facial hair). I think the best episode had to be the Christmas special, where Mikey decorated a tree...oh my god, I nearly wet myself. I would love to party with that boy any day of the week. Not to mention the bike he built. I may know NOTHING about bikes, but I do know the Blues, and I am agreeable to his choice of theme.
That being done, our manwhore came up from Buffalo to party with us. Oh how we love that boy. He cracks us up too. And who else could you watch four hours of ass porn with? That's right--I said ass porn!
*backtrack*
My friend Becky didn't have an adult toy. I decided for her that that was a crime against nature. So we went to Sexworld to purchase one for her. And well, what the hell you might as well get porn to go with it. And you might as well get some bang for your buck so we hit the 4 hours for 15 dollars rack. Let me just say--you get what you pay for.
The title that leapt out at her, rightfully so, was Fuck Me and Get Out. A funny title, you must admit. It held great promise. Little did we know that promise was going to be ASS PORN!
*return to holiday festivities*
The best time to preview your porn is the night before your entire family comes over to eat turkey. If you can, secure yourself your manwhore and be ready to laugh your ass off at the butt acne and horrible camera angles. I also recommend skipping out on eating chinese food while watching ass porn. It just feels wrong.
Our plan was to stay up all night and cram the 21 lb turkey into the oven then go to sleep. But we needed nappy naps around 3:30 so we set the alarm for 6:30 so we could cram bread into the orrifices of a white corpse of a bird. Happy times!
Stumbling into the kitchen at 6:30 we commenced with the stuffin. Rubber gloves were worn. And while massaging butter into the turkey I realized it felt just like my ass and was probably about the same color.
Back to bed we went to get up at 10 to clean before the tribe showed up at noon. Well we made it. Sure I met her family while still wearing curlers, but her uncle had a mullet, I didn't feel too bad.
Dinner was a success. No one died. The food even tasted good! More booze! I then got to watch my friend and her sister wrestle with their uncle. to hear my friend re-tell it she said and I quote:
"He had me in a full nelson and then I thought to myself, 'oh my god am I cupping my uncle's balls?'"
The Hallmark Hall of Fame never has movies dealing this subject. I was amused beyond belief.
More gifts were exchanged.
I just got to sit back and watch everyone open their gifts. I have never experienced anything like that before. It was nice. There was laughter, holidng up of gifts, squeals of "Oh my god--I love it", flashes of cameras, and hugs all around. Even tho they weren't my family--it felt good to watch. It was nice to be a part of a tradition for once. Something I never had growing up, and probably never will have with my family.
We then all headed to the hotel where the out of town folks were staying to splash around in the pool and soak in the pot of human soup that we know as a hot tub.
It was later, after we stuffed our faces with pizza and you guessed it more booze, that the tale of Reba Rottencrotch came forth.
As a child, my dear friend's brother was nicknamed Poop. Sometimes for fun they called him boob. We all laughed ourselves silly at the thought of him being lovingly refered to as poop. It was then mentioned my friend was dubbed, "Reba Rottencrotch".
The laughter echoed off the pool walls for several minutes after that. To which my friend Becky said, "Great it's obvious to me now my family never wants me to get laid again, first they give me a name like Reba Rottencrotch and then give me crazy eskimo pajamas for christmas."
My face still hurts from all the laughing.
So dear Reba and Family--tho it was not Hallmarky it was a wonderful holiday. And Reba, tho your crotch may be rotten, your heart is pure gold--and I am lucky to have such a great friend like you.
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