And a Kardashian in a pear tree

I wouldn't try to make this stuff up. Even I wouldn't believe it.

So, Christmas Eve dinner. We were there, as were Paul's sister and her family, Paul's widower Uncle and his 28-year old son, and, of course, my in-laws. The usual crowd for at least the past 20 years, give or take.

Because the in laws live in a town house, it was pretty much at capacity with the group of us. My poor 6' son still sits at the "kids'" table, though his legs are so long they hit the table top. Bad luck on his part he wasn't born earlier. His much shorter sister, who happens to be two years older, got the last spot at the "adult table," simply by virtue of birth order. Sucks for him now, but at least this way all the dudes are together. That way they can discuss all the stuff adolescent boys discuss. Like snot. And video games.

Anyway. We ate. And ate. And ate. All of it divine, simply divine. There was homemade ravioli, beef and pork roasts, roasted potatoes, and, making its debut, green bean casserole. And the desserts. Dear God, the desserts. Speak not of them, lest the calories remind me my primary 2011 goal is to work on my health. Which involves taking chocolate off the most generous portion of the food pyramid.


After dinner, all the grandchildren high-tailed it out of the room, disappearing wherever one can disappear within the confines of a small town house. Mostly, they crowded onto the in laws' bed, to watch TV and avoid boring adult talk. If only they knew.

Things started out normally, sharing how life had been treating us, making every attempt to avoid politics and religion. Yadda yadda. Then the subject of the Uncle's short film "career" came up, as it occasionally does, and he went through the litany of the films he's been in, and those out of which his small parts (snicker!) were cut. More the latter than the former, truth be told. I think of it as the "shoot me now, I've heard this 100 times" scenario. 

But from there things jumped the track and went way out of control. The Uncle mentioned how he once saw six gorgeous models strip nude in front of him, changing into their costumes. All the while his eyes were bugging out of his head. It's not that I can blame his reaction, but the mental image of The Uncle ogling six naked women is a bit disturbing. Because… Well, just because.



With the conversation already so filthy it may as well go all the way, the topic of one of the Kardashians came up. I guess one of the sisters had been on Conan O'Brien recently, talking about how she regularly wipes her naughty bits with mayonnaise. "As part of her normal routine," he said. It's so her bits glisten, I guess, in a festive, "look at me!" way.



Kind of made me throw up a little, just thinking about him thinking about that.



Lucky the mother in law and sister in law were out of the room. I'm totally beyond taking offense, but those two? Not quite as liberal, not to mention this was CHRISTMAS EVE DINNER. A family occasion when loved ones gather around the table to enjoy a meal together, then talk about naked models and vaginal enhancements.

Does something seem a little wrong about that to you? Because it does to me. I just can't put my finger on why.

Come to think of it, I don't think I want to come near putting my finger on anything about it.


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