Christmas in Crappalvania

Christmas is not the same if you are not around family and friends. It really is just another day; a day that feels like it should be something special, but can’t quite seem to figure out how. Without my Mom’s turkey, the stories my Dad tells every single family gathering, my cousin’s Cola and medication induced comments and the disgusted looks on the faces of my nephews when they discover my sisters have once again given them clothes as gifts, Christmas just isn’t as fun. For the 25th year in a row the family pets gave me socks. Black socks actually. I know not having thumbs to pose or the ability to go shopping at the mall is an issue with them, but if they can order black socks SURELY they can be more creative and get me something else. I am not against well put together baskets of fancy cheeses and Jelly Belly gourmet jelly beans. Who in their right mind would be?

The Crap House has a single strand of clear long time broken Christmas lights that covers about 1% of it’s crappy exterior and appears to have been hung by it’s previous owner Scrooge. My bosses, Mr. and Mrs. Crappinstein of Crappalvania, bought a Charlie Brownesque Christmas tree for the hostel and had me decorate it. I have been tempted to steal it and put it in the crap house but I have been afraid The Crap American will burn it to keep warm when I am not home.

Mrs. Crappinstein made me and Rob a melt in your mouth slow roasted pork for Christmas lunch. We both knew it was going to be good because she is a trained chef so neither of us ate for 36 hours in preparation of consuming little porky pig. We were also given a box of potatoes and told if we wanted to eat them we would have to cook them ourselves. The Crap American is against all vegetables and just had a ‘meat’ lunch and I of course BBQ’d mine. I wanted to watch Elf, a mildly funny Christmas themed movie while we ate, but Rob, who is against Christmas, wanted to watch Hotel Rwanda. Have you seen this movie? The only movie I can think of that would have been less Christmas like would be House of 1000 Corpses (Not a movie I would recommend if you don’t want to live the rest of your life having nightmares about evil killer circus performers, right Kris?) At least I was able to wash away the guilt later and watch Elf alone in my crap flat. Yes Christmas in Crappalvania wasn’t the greatest but thanks to The Crap American making me watch Hotel Rwanda, I know it could be have been much worse.