The Feast of Stephen

Ho Ho, and an additional Ho! Lucy woke up in the middle of the night before Christmas, and we didn't want her to disturb Samantha, who could have realized the Fat Man had already delivered. So, Lucy woke up Christmas morning on the couch, and was still in a bit of a slumbery stupor as Sam handed out the gifts.

This is the "I just got the Christmas Carol Barbie I asked for" look.

She wore this the rest of the day. Thank you, Grandma Thorne.

It's nice that our kids are still young enough that they don't reallize that Santa can't afford to give them everything Santa would like to give them. Lucy would have been perfectly content to just eat candy bracelets and play with her kiddie cell-phone we got at the dollar store.

Sam also likes the scarf mommy made her, but that smile is due the news that Samantha's mortal enemy, Gertrude Von Shrapnel had perished on Christmas Eve in a bizzare waffle accident.

A moment of toddler self-consciousness.

As Requested

See: http://theadventuresofrustandbrit.blogspot.com/

Here's a few precious pictures of my kids. I used the 6.7 googa-pixel option on my camera this time, just to change things up. A note to Evil Vanessa: If you even THINK about stealing these pictures, I'll hunt you down and stab you in the throat and do a cheer routine in the pool of blood surrounding your rotten corpse.

While I'm posting pictures of the things that bring me joy, I might as well take this opportunity to list the top 5 things that make me want to puke.

1) Weather. I hate the cold because I once lived in a tropical climate where I was also miserable and had to eat cockroaches and drink expensive milk. Wishing for warmth makes me hate. Wishing for cheap milk makes me sweat.

2) You and your mother

3) People who pretend to have sophisticated literary tastes by ranting about how they hate Stephanie Myer and her bland writing and then go on to publish post after post of Twilight worship. Though I will admit that Robert Pattinson is an absolute DREAMBOAT!

4) Pound Puppies. They might as well include plush euthanasia kits.

5) My house and my possessions. I just own too much stuff. SERIOUSLY! However, it's not as bad as that summer I spent huddled under an abandoned station wagon in a ditch next to that Arbies in DeMoine. I put on so much weight digging through that greasy dumpster.

Thank you and goodnight. A Christmas wrap-up (ha) to follow soon.

No Ma'am. Just look-a-likes.

We all look like things. I don't know why our daughters look like old, flamboyant musicians, but it could be worse.

I think we're actually going to send out a Christmas letter this year. We don't have very many home addresses. If you'd like one, please send your address to xarthog@hotmail.com.

You could also post it in the comments section, but that's quite a bit more public. Anyways, Merry Christmas if we don't get your address.

Yule Thusfar

The Holidays are fast approaching, and we find ourselves doing pretty much all the same things we usually do: eat junk food, mooch off our family, and prepare to disappoint our children.

Here we have Sam's angry face which she uses anytime she's forcing her sister to do something or whenever she's thinking hard. Note also the trail of snot. Behind her is our fake Christmas Tree which has no ornaments on the bottom half.
This is Becky's catfish face, which she uses during periods of stress and passion.
This is Lucy, adorned.



The yuletide DriSilque leper.
This is 33 weeks of human production. Other pregnant people look like crap heaps.


Gird thyself with the colander of righteousness.