Just like everyone else.

Apparently I'm in an unoriginal mood today because, despite the blog world stuffed with "This is how our Christmas looked, felt, tasted and sounded", I still feel the need to offer up my own holiday summary.

So, sorry for piling on. If you're bored of holiday wrap-ups, you can skip this post and I won't hate you too intensely. Though you will miss out seeing how Bubba topped himself in the gift-giving department and watching my dog kill a duck.

Yeah. I thought you'd stick around.

As you already know, we don't do Christmas like normal people. This is due to a few things, specifically that we don't celebrate Christmas given that we're a Jew/Heathen household and also because Bubba is the world's most enthusiastic scrooge. If the Boy Scouts had offered a badge for it, he'd still be wearing it to this day, transferring it from one winter coat to another.

But, even non-Christmas havers like ourselves still enjoy an excuse to taunt one another with gifts, eat fattening crap that we can't justify at other times of the year, get drunk, make fun of our neighbors' holiday decorations and then go skiing.


Which is, I'm sure, exactly what everyone else is doing on Christmas.

And even though you've seen these exact pictures from everyone's Look At MY Holiday posts, please enjoy Christmas At My House.

For starters, we do Christmas-like things on Christmas Eve. This is because we always go skiing on Christmas day while you Christmas-Havers are sitting around a big ham wondering who tracked fireplace soot through the living room.

This year, we farted around the house doing whatever came into our pea brains (so, no different from most other days) and then decided it was time for Christmas Tacos. So named because they are eaten near Christmastime not because they're made from reindeer or mistletoe or spiral cut ham. And because it is our routine, we made for the bikes.

Living in California, good taquerias are very close by, and so to justify the eating of these things, we ride our bikes there like we're seven year olds.

I first went to put my bike socks on and then, as I was standing in the garage NOT LOOKING AROUND as I had been instructed for weeks lest I lay eyes upon my gift from Bubba, I went to take down my bike shoes and Bubba said, in his cutesy I'm Trying Not To Laugh way,

"Uh, baby, you don't need your bike shoes."

To which I said, without turning around mind you, "Of course I do. I can't pedal those fucking things without them."

Yes, so I totally didn't get it right then. But, when I turned around to give him the WTF face, he was standing there all proudly with the most awesome Dutchie bike which happened to have MY helmet in the basket.

Meeee-OW.

Oh.

OH!

Yeah, Bubba - in his unyielding desire to always up the ante on gift-giving, had outdone himself to such a degree that I nearly pooed.

He got me a townie bike.

A lime green beauty with bamboo racks and a comfy leather saddle and grips and NOT clip pedals that I could...hold on to your britches...EVEN RIDE IN FLIP-FLOPS.

Holy crap, I nearly pooed again right there.

So, yes. I love her. I've named her Tulip, on the suggestion of my neighbor, since she looks like the Dutchie bikes we saw in Amsterdam but didn't ride because they weren't ours/it was raining/we weren't sober enough.

And, on Tulip, I rode for Christmas Tacos with my beloved.

Ass.

Then, we rode to BevMo and bought each other booze, per tradition, and then rode home so that we could walk the dog around and leave gifts dangling from our neighbors' doorknobs so perhaps they wouldn't hate us for not having a tree in our window or our house all aflame with blinking bullshit.

Then we opened stockings (which we have and fill thanks to my MiL who provided them so many years back) so that I could have Chapstick until the End of Days and Bubba opened his gift from me.

May there be much wading in the New Year.

After which, Bubba offered up a sacrifice to the puppy gods.

While Jada had a murderous tryst with Duckie, I started getting The Feast together so that when our other non-Christmas-Haver neighbors came over to join us, there'd be more to eat than fudge.

Ew.

Note the traditional Christmas Challah.

After which we all rode bikes around our town and collectively pointed and laughed at people's interpretation of blinking merriment and only two of us crashed our bikes. I wasn't one of the crashers, but I did drop my camera twice when it bounced out of the front basket of my bike after a particularly enthusiastic speed bump approach, and so there's not much in the way of photographic proof that any of this took place.

Except you know that it did because it's my favorite part of our holiday traditions, now made even more efficient with the introduction of bikes. Walking is just too slow when there's this much crap to see and laugh at.

Then we skied.

Beer is also the traditional lunch of Christmas Day.

Oh - and for those who were curious - these were our exact holiday cards this year because it's not just you guys who know Bubba and I as jerk-offs.