overdue Xmas post.

Okay, so this post is way overdue and will probably suck. I started it on Friday and it is now Monday. I think I have what AlCantHang called "writer's apathy." I have a lot to write about but just don't care or feel like doing it. New Year's just happened (no one got drunk or raped in the butt) and I haven't even written about Christmas yet. So here we go...

Christmas was fun.

Ms. Brick and I got to The Parents' house at about 1AM on Friday, Dec. 23. I organized a lunch meeting at my favorite pizza place for that afternoon with:

Me
Ms. Brick
Mom
Dad
Sister
Sister's husband
Sister's daughter

We got a large pepperoni and sausage, and a large deluxe. It was good.

"Wow, I don't usually like sausage on my pizza but this is really good," said Ms. Brick. That's right. I have no idea what it is about the sausage at Barro's Pizza.

I had to go to the bathroom at one point. Why is this important? Because to get to the bathroom at Barro's you have to walk past the video games.

They had a Lethal Enforcers machine so I just had to play.



I felt stupid though, seeing as I am probably more than twice as old now as I was the last time I stood in that corner playing video games. I remember riding my skateboard/bike there to play Street Fighter and Roadblasters when I was about 10. Notice the lack of a "II" after "Street Fighter." They rotated the games frequently though, and Street Fighter was gone by the time I was 11. Then Street Fighter II came along when I hit 13.

I think the main reason that place is my favorite is because I am prejudiced against other pizza due to nostalgia. That's the way it goes.

Let's take a look at the cup from said pizza place:



There has got to be some kind of irony there.

Enough about pizza. Ms. Brick and spent the rest of our time there Christmas shopping, going to In-n-Out Burger, having Christmas, and enjoying the 70-degree weather from inside.

That's right, In-n-Out Burger. I took Ms. Brick there on Christmas Eve and was careful to warn her that there was no way the burgers could live up to the hype. Sure, they're really good, but not as good as the hype. I had a 3 X 3 with extra sauce and Ms. Brick went with the Double-Double.

"My favorite part was watching them make the burgers," she said.

I apologize, for I do not have any pictures of our burgers, so please enjoy this stock photo:


After the burgers, we finished our shopping and went back to my parents' house.

Christmas Eve happened. We had dinner and went to church.

Christmas happened. I need to accept the fact that the days of my dad dropping $1K+ on Christmas gifts are long gone. Like the time he got me that computer with a sweet 50Mhz 486 processor that was on sale at Best Buy for $1599. This development is fine with me. Like I said in an earlier post: I don't need more crap. It just means I'm old now.

I gave Ms. Brick the iPod I won in the blogger tournament. Even though two months ago she was taunting me with claims that it was her's, she quickly rejected it. "I don't want expensive gifts like that." Cool. I am officially off the hook. Next year when I get her a pair of socks and a spatula, I can just say: "What? You said you didn't want expensive gifts. I'm just trying to please you."

I also got her a cell phone and a flask with her name engraved on it.

I got her the cell phone because there have been a few times when I was annoyed that I couldn't call her because she was out, or we were both out but separated. She, apparently, thought I got her the cell phone so she could call me every six minutes for the next three days. Luckily, call frequency subsided when I quit answering.

She liked the flask, though, I think. Not because she can now transport her booze in style, but because having the name engraved on it meant I had to plan ahead and couldn't just run out and get it the day before like I usually do.

She left the day after Christmas and I stayed and hung out with my family for a couple days. I didn't do much except sit around. During this time I was able to determine a few things. Based on the picture below, taken at 3PM on a Monday, I determined that being retired kicks complete and total ass:



My dad finally achieved his lifelong dream of sleeping 19 hours a day, emerging only to feed and watch "Becker" reruns.

From hanging out with my sister's daughter, I determined that being 1 kicks complete and total ass:



And here I am stuck in the middle. Only 35 more years. Being retired probably kicks more ass than being 1 because you're smart enough to appreciate it. But then again you don't have that blissful ignorance anymore and you still have to pay bills and get up and go to another room to poop, so maybe it's a toss-up. Also, there is a point in retirement at which one does not need to go to another room to poop anymore. At first this may seem like a positive development. However, I would assume that this would cause the kick-assitude of the situation to cease immediately. Also you are way closer to dying.

Other unrelated observations:

My childhood bedroom is still painted purple and orange. I moved out 9 years ago. I took down my Kevin Johnson, Tom Chambers, Charles Barkley, and Kurt Rambis posters 5 years ago when I got back from college. But those walls are still purple and orange. That reminds me. I need to get this poster to hang in my living room:



I do not think I will follow my parents' example. My kids will not be allowed to paint their bedroom walls whatever the hell color(s) they please. I've been known to cave under pressure, though.

I had fun, though. I love my parents even though they are old and lame. I am just as lame, just not as old.

I went to In-n-Out Burger two more times. I had a 2X4 (ketchup and mustard style) and a 2X1 (animal style). I highly recommend doubling up on the cheese rather than halving it. Also, animal style is better than ketchup-and-mustard style. I hope I am in Las Vegas, California, or Phoenix sometime before next Christmas. I don't even think I will be in Phoenix next Christmas. Those stupid In-n-Out Burgers. They have to be all far away and crap.

Okay, that's all. I didn't proofread or edit or anything. Now I have to write about New Year's.

Charles Barkley is a fat douche.