Tis the season…to talk about a bunch of stuff that happened to me. So without further ado: The Fox Family Christmas.

Christmas Eve – my mom’s side of the family always gathers – eats lobster


cause we’re bougie like that (and from New England), open some gifts and catch up on the happenings of the previous year. One of my cousins has a new lady friend. He’s kind of a shy guy and didn’t feel like talking about her — I just needed to know some essentials like, how hot was she?

At this point I introduced the boner-meter, a real hit. It’s quite simple – just use your index finger as a replica erection and rate the attractiveness/awesomeness of person/thing in question (I say awesomeness because awesome things can cause boners). Unattractive = bent finger pointing towards the floor (extremely ugly might even curl up into a fist.) Smoking hot = … well, you get the point. Some people are more inclined to rate things on a scale of 1-10. I think finger boners paint a better picture.

At any rate, this started as a contained conversation  amongst the younger generation. Unfortunately – everyone was so excited about the new rating scale, that the conversation carried over  to the dinner table where my mother and aunt overheard and misunderstood the meaning of a boner meter. They laughed along desperately wanting to be included. Without cause or context my aunt and mother would wave their fingers around announcing ” Boner Meter!! Boner Meter!!” and then giggle hysterically in a champagne influenced laughing fit. My mom was wearing an elf’s hat that danced to the song Jingle Bells. At the end of the song the tip of the hat goes bananas and jingles the bell in what they would describe as a “boner – metered fashion.”

boner hat and full elf regalia *couldn't figure out how to download the movie - call me and I'll email it to you.

At any rate – good fun, good drink, and boner meter mania. I’d give the night a full on boyoyoyoing.

Next day-  Christmas. First of all – I’m totally down to propagate the Santa Claus lie – though in telling that ridiculous ass story to my daughter, I was a little disappointed that she believed it.

Me: “Lucy – do you know about Santa Claus?”
Lucy: “Yeah”
Me: “Liar. Who is he then?”
Lucy: <no response>
Me: “Santa Clause is a big fat man who flies reindeer through the sky, climbs down people’s chimneys and brings presents to little girls who are nice to their daddies. Do you think he came last night?”
Lucy “Not yet.”
Me: “Should we go check?”

A terrified Lucy on the brink of tears responds “Noooo.” I then realized that she thought a fat nordic home invader might be down stairs and wasn’t too interested in what “gifts” he might have.

Realizing my mistake – “Oh honey, it’s ok – Santa comes – but then he leaves.” <insert juvenile “that’s what she said” joke, but know you are a disturbed pervert for using it in the context of a Santa story>.

Lucy “OK. Let’s get presents.”

In short – AvoClaus came, and killed it.  Target, Old Navy, done.

Flew home on the 29th – and nothing really funny has happened since. I’ll pick this blogging thing back up when  I get the chance.

Happy merriness bitches – and to all a good night!

About The Big Avocado

A bag of chips and then some.
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