This will mark the first year in quite a long time where I’m not dreading the coming holiday. I’m typically used to heaping amounts of arguing and other such drama. Memories of gifts flying down stairs come to mind. Being yelled at for having fun and laughing is a pretty solid Walsh family tradition too. I think my favorite so far was last year where my brother, dad, and I were talking and laughing and having as good a time as could be had in that house just to have dear old mother put some irish people singing Christmas songs on tv and then act like we’re ruining Christmas because she can’t hear the potato farmers croon the holidays in style. For the record, the combo of my mother and the irish guy with the mullet singing comes second to my desire to watch someone use Danny Devito as a condom and viciously fuck the shit out of a T-rex display at a museum. Just to be fair, that’s a hard one to beat. I dare any of you to look me in the eye and tell me that wouldn’t earn itself at least one curious glance from you.

But this year will be different. I’ve escaped the mess and I actually woke up today without having to prep myself for stress. I can’t really come up with a scenario for the next few days that involves getting yelled at for having a good time. Fucking weird, right? I didn’t have money for gifts again this year and I wasn’t made to feel like shit because of it. That blew my mind I didn’t think you could do that. Sure there’s still noise but this year it’s because people are having fun, not because someone had the audacity to spend Christmas with their spouses family this year. I think the need to see Danny Devito forced into a dinosaur is sort of lower on my list for once. I don’t know how I feel about that.

So anyway, Merry Christmas, or Kwanzaa, or Hanukkah, or whatever your skin color tells you you’re supposed to call this.