...deck the halls with dingle-berries.
Golly, the air is so thick around here you could hack it up with a chainsaw. I see why turkey is only traditional a couple of times a year. You startle one of the kids, and they puff up like one of those fish, and you have to retrieve them from the ceiling.
And I'm noting a lot of wardrobe changes in the underwear area. Every so often someone will fly past to one of the bathrooms with a grim, determined look on their face. Sometimes there's a hint of panic.
I bought the kids a bottle of sparkling grape juice, and told them it was wine, so they are acting drunk like Daddy. You know, slapping the wife around, fucking the dog, stuff like that...
Ha! Just kidding! We don't have a dog.
Man, I have crapped my own weight. And there's leftovers! Yay!
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go 'swim a few Mexicans across the Rio Grande', if you catch my drift.