On Christmas Eve, Mike J, Tony and Girlie came over to eat a loooooooot of food and exchange presents. The menu consisted of Oreo brownies, lasagna, spinach dip and penne a la vodka with grilled chicken and asparagus (courtesy of me) and turkey, stuffing and garlic mashed potatoes (courtesy of Geo). And a liberal quantity of Jack Daniels, courtesy of Tony's gift to Mike J. We got solidly liquored up, because what better way to spend such a religious occasion. We even had some articulate religious discussion:
Me: Look at Mike sitting there, pretending he didn't kill Jesus and everything.
Mike: It wasn't my fault!
Tony: Yeah it was, your peoples were yelling "Crucify him! Crucify him!"
Mike: But I've got my Christmas sweater on. I'm the only one.
Me: Yes, because when they say "don we now our gay apparel" they didn't mean that definition of the word gay.
Tony: Didn't you wear that sweater last year?
Mike: Ummm..... it's my Christmas sweater!!!
I was only kidding about the apparel comment though. No self-respecting gay man would be caught dead in that sweater. Or he might, but it's only because someone put it on after he was already dead.
So after we ate and drank and were merry, we opened our gifts. Geo and I made most of the ones we gave, which you know sounds pretty cheap but each one took HOURS to make. So there. Thanks G for the Barnes and Noble gift card, thanks T for the Patron Silver tequila and thanks Mike for the Marvel Characters and their Universe and X-Men books and the Marvel Nemesis Gamecube game. We all played that game until 5 in the morning. I was feeling a bit guilty because I thought Geo was going to get robbed of a gift, the way he did last year when Audrey got him a faux fur throw I COINCIDENTALLY had been lusting after (ahem). But Mike passed off the new fur throw as his birthday gift and got him Madden 2006 for Christmas. And Tony got him a Sirius Satellite radio thing so he could listen to Howard. And G got him a nice scarf. So thanks again you guys and WOOT!
Can't put up any other pics or Kwame and Abel will see what they got.
Oh and just for the record, Tony kicked all our asses in the drunken spitting contest. We all made it at least six or seven feet, but Tony's landed somewhere in Bayonne. Oh and Mike made me drunk dial the NORAD Santa trackers at about 3am and Santa was apparently in Mission Viejo, California.
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