After collecting dust for 3 years, the booze checkers finally made an appearance. I lost. Absurd.
Building family values.
The beast is a-roasting, the grownups are a-toasting, and the kiddos are a-ssaulting the cats and christmas tree. I seem to have been left alone to guard the meats while the fambly savages the post office, left with stern instruction by man-person to "not send any drinky emails". Am not. Am watching meat. The one in the oven.
See?
But I am tipping my nog to the ones I love.
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