The traditional Christmas Eve insanity was in full bore, in which I came screaming in to my parents via the Mass Pike (and running late as usual), wrapped presents up in my childhood room (I am the Queen of Last Minute present-wrapping), and sat down and ate an early Christmas Eve diner involving American Chop Suey.
Because we were going to annual Christmas Eve fete at the Italian half of the family, the one that involves seven kinds of fishes with very scary food.
And let me just say: No one should be forced to eat squid stuffed with ricotta cheese swimming in a red tomato sauce. I'm very sure there's a rule in the Geneva Conventions against feeding innocent people that kind of thing.
My family, the midnight black sheep that we are, were all, "Oh, we already ate! French tradition insists we eat meat! Nyah-nyah!" (Not true, by the way, but we have used Mom!Marcs as a shield for years against the Italian tradition of Seven Fishes on Christmas Eve and there's no point in stopping now.)
My younger cousins took this opportunity to glare at my brother and I while they doused their seven kinds of fish with ketchup (yes, even the squid swimming in red tomato sauce and stuffed with ricotta cheese) and through grit teeth proclaimed that it was the Best. Seven. Fishes. Christmas. Feast. Ever!
Hey, it's not my problem that I got the cool, understanding parents who hate the Seven Fishes as much as their kids do, right? Suck on it.
In any case, Christmas Eve ended with present unwrapping (my 'rents and my brother chipped in for a Wii Fit, and dad gave me the traditional gift of MOAR TOOLS for my tool box). This was followed by...
...drum roll please...
Getting sucked into a Pawn Stars marathon on the History Channel (I totally blame Daddy!Marcs for the fiasco) until 1:30 a.m.
He was looking for the news, and the remote mysteriously landed on the History Channel, and well...
Shit, that show is addictive.
Needless to say we were all walking zombies the following day. Poor kurukami thought he must've been among the land of the living dead, what with us drifting off into sleep every 5 minutes and waking up with a loud, "What? What? I'm awake, damnit!" within seconds of the snores starting.
Note to self: Never, ever turn on the History Channel on Christmas Eve. That be some bad juju there.
In any case, here's one of my favorite Christmas Videos ever, "Merry Christmas from the Family" by Robert Earl Keen.
It reminds me so much of the annual Christmas Eve at the Italian half of the family, except my Christmas Eve has more fishes (seven, to be precise!) and a hell of a lot more Italians.