OMFG I'm going to die.
12-16-2016, 07:42 PM
#1
Race Director
Thread Starter
OMFG I'm going to die.
My wife has developed a "tradition" over the past 5 years. In the beginning, one or two of her sisters or closest friends would come to our house to bake Christmas cookies, pies, and related swag for consumption on Christmas Eve.
Couple of years go by...the kitchen seems to be a little fuller. And another year, and some more folks.
BUT HOLY HELL, MY HOUSE HAS BEEN OVERRUN BY THE WIMMINS. My wife, her mother, three sisters, and 8 nieces in the 10-15 year old range have descended on my home and are tracking flour, cinnamon, and estrogen everywhere. As we have three rooms configured as bedrooms yet 15 people who will at some point succumb to the post-sugar-rush crash and collapse onto my cherished sectional couch and all available floor space, I can only assume the next two nights will involve tiptoeing around sleeping, farting children in Minions and comic book character PJs.
The dog has begun projectile vomiting due to his inability to pass up ANY treat. The cat is semi-catatonic, with flashes of lucidity where she attempts to maim anything within reach. Flour, sugar, estrogen, and holiday cheer throughout my home. I hold my breath when passing through the more occupied areas, as breathing this air is certain to produce gynecomastia after minimal exposure.
It is raining, so my plan to spend the night in my hammock has been scrapped, and the roads to Big Bear will be too treacherous to make in the 996.
I'm off to find a movie theater that is within stumbling distance from a decent bar so I can slosh my way through a few movies...
Couple of years go by...the kitchen seems to be a little fuller. And another year, and some more folks.
BUT HOLY HELL, MY HOUSE HAS BEEN OVERRUN BY THE WIMMINS. My wife, her mother, three sisters, and 8 nieces in the 10-15 year old range have descended on my home and are tracking flour, cinnamon, and estrogen everywhere. As we have three rooms configured as bedrooms yet 15 people who will at some point succumb to the post-sugar-rush crash and collapse onto my cherished sectional couch and all available floor space, I can only assume the next two nights will involve tiptoeing around sleeping, farting children in Minions and comic book character PJs.
The dog has begun projectile vomiting due to his inability to pass up ANY treat. The cat is semi-catatonic, with flashes of lucidity where she attempts to maim anything within reach. Flour, sugar, estrogen, and holiday cheer throughout my home. I hold my breath when passing through the more occupied areas, as breathing this air is certain to produce gynecomastia after minimal exposure.
It is raining, so my plan to spend the night in my hammock has been scrapped, and the roads to Big Bear will be too treacherous to make in the 996.
I'm off to find a movie theater that is within stumbling distance from a decent bar so I can slosh my way through a few movies...
12-16-2016, 07:52 PM
#4
Rennlist Member
My wife has developed a "tradition" over the past 5 years. In the beginning, one or two of her sisters or closest friends would come to our house to bake Christmas cookies, pies, and related swag for consumption on Christmas Eve.
Couple of years go by...the kitchen seems to be a little fuller. And another year, and some more folks.
BUT HOLY HELL, MY HOUSE HAS BEEN OVERRUN BY THE WIMMINS. My wife, her mother, three sisters, and 8 nieces in the 10-15 year old range have descended on my home and are tracking flour, cinnamon, and estrogen everywhere. As we have three rooms configured as bedrooms yet 15 people who will at some point succumb to the post-sugar-rush crash and collapse onto my cherished sectional couch and all available floor space, I can only assume the next two nights will involve tiptoeing around sleeping, farting children in Minions and comic book character PJs.
The dog has begun projectile vomiting due to his inability to pass up ANY treat. The cat is semi-catatonic, with flashes of lucidity where she attempts to maim anything within reach. Flour, sugar, estrogen, and holiday cheer throughout my home. I hold my breath when passing through the more occupied areas, as breathing this air is certain to produce gynecomastia after minimal exposure.
It is raining, so my plan to spend the night in my hammock has been scrapped, and the roads to Big Bear will be too treacherous to make in the 996.
I'm off to find a movie theater that is within stumbling distance from a decent bar so I can slosh my way through a few movies...
Couple of years go by...the kitchen seems to be a little fuller. And another year, and some more folks.
BUT HOLY HELL, MY HOUSE HAS BEEN OVERRUN BY THE WIMMINS. My wife, her mother, three sisters, and 8 nieces in the 10-15 year old range have descended on my home and are tracking flour, cinnamon, and estrogen everywhere. As we have three rooms configured as bedrooms yet 15 people who will at some point succumb to the post-sugar-rush crash and collapse onto my cherished sectional couch and all available floor space, I can only assume the next two nights will involve tiptoeing around sleeping, farting children in Minions and comic book character PJs.
The dog has begun projectile vomiting due to his inability to pass up ANY treat. The cat is semi-catatonic, with flashes of lucidity where she attempts to maim anything within reach. Flour, sugar, estrogen, and holiday cheer throughout my home. I hold my breath when passing through the more occupied areas, as breathing this air is certain to produce gynecomastia after minimal exposure.
It is raining, so my plan to spend the night in my hammock has been scrapped, and the roads to Big Bear will be too treacherous to make in the 996.
I'm off to find a movie theater that is within stumbling distance from a decent bar so I can slosh my way through a few movies...
Buy a cigar and have a beer in the garage !
12-16-2016, 07:56 PM
#6
Three Wheelin'
My wife has developed a "tradition" over the past 5 years. In the beginning, one or two of her sisters or closest friends would come to our house to bake Christmas cookies, pies, and related swag for consumption on Christmas Eve.
Couple of years go by...the kitchen seems to be a little fuller. And another year, and some more folks.
BUT HOLY HELL, MY HOUSE HAS BEEN OVERRUN BY THE WIMMINS. My wife, her mother, three sisters, and 8 nieces in the 10-15 year old range have descended on my home and are tracking flour, cinnamon, and estrogen everywhere. As we have three rooms configured as bedrooms yet 15 people who will at some point succumb to the post-sugar-rush crash and collapse onto my cherished sectional couch and all available floor space, I can only assume the next two nights will involve tiptoeing around sleeping, farting children in Minions and comic book character PJs.
The dog has begun projectile vomiting due to his inability to pass up ANY treat. The cat is semi-catatonic, with flashes of lucidity where she attempts to maim anything within reach. Flour, sugar, estrogen, and holiday cheer throughout my home. I hold my breath when passing through the more occupied areas, as breathing this air is certain to produce gynecomastia after minimal exposure.
It is raining, so my plan to spend the night in my hammock has been scrapped, and the roads to Big Bear will be too treacherous to make in the 996.
I'm off to find a movie theater that is within stumbling distance from a decent bar so I can slosh my way through a few movies...
Couple of years go by...the kitchen seems to be a little fuller. And another year, and some more folks.
BUT HOLY HELL, MY HOUSE HAS BEEN OVERRUN BY THE WIMMINS. My wife, her mother, three sisters, and 8 nieces in the 10-15 year old range have descended on my home and are tracking flour, cinnamon, and estrogen everywhere. As we have three rooms configured as bedrooms yet 15 people who will at some point succumb to the post-sugar-rush crash and collapse onto my cherished sectional couch and all available floor space, I can only assume the next two nights will involve tiptoeing around sleeping, farting children in Minions and comic book character PJs.
The dog has begun projectile vomiting due to his inability to pass up ANY treat. The cat is semi-catatonic, with flashes of lucidity where she attempts to maim anything within reach. Flour, sugar, estrogen, and holiday cheer throughout my home. I hold my breath when passing through the more occupied areas, as breathing this air is certain to produce gynecomastia after minimal exposure.
It is raining, so my plan to spend the night in my hammock has been scrapped, and the roads to Big Bear will be too treacherous to make in the 996.
I'm off to find a movie theater that is within stumbling distance from a decent bar so I can slosh my way through a few movies...
