I love Groundhog Day. In addition to being a good excuse to drink cocktails at 7am on a cold February morning, it also has something to do with the fact that the most famous groundhog in all the land is a fellow PA indigen. Punxsutawney Phil’s a Keystone Stater and I like pretty much anything that draws my home turf into the spotlight (except things like serial killers, corrupt politicians, and chemical waste).
Even as a college student, Groundhog Day was a big deal. Since Punxsutawney is just an hour or so away from Penn State, there was always a gaggle of groundhog groupies ready for a 1AM road trip to check out ‘ol Punxy Phil’s prediction. And as much as a booze-fueled late night venture into backwoods of Pennsylvania to heckle a rodent sounds like something that was right up my alley as a 19-year-old, surprisingly, I never actually made the trip.
Oh well…To Phil!
For some reason this giant party in the woods looks fun to me. I want to sport a top hat and play with groundhogs.
Seriously, though, Phil better predict right...OR ELSE.
The second leg of our holiday adventure has begun. We got into Las Vegas last night and are readying ourselves for four days full of gluttony (as if we need more) and gambling.
My in-laws, Rick and Louise, are taking us on the trip. I definitely lucked out with my mother and father-in-law. They are very generous people and extremely easy going. For instance, the last time we visited Las Vegas with them, Grey and I went a little too crazy at the Black Jack table and ended up getting separated (I think we came to the mutual decision we were each other’s “unlucky charm”). Sometime in the wee hours of the morning I called my in-laws’ room, crying about being lost “somewhere in the Luxor” without a room key or my spouse. Without complaint my father-in-law stumbled down in his pajamas and retrieved me, the newest and most intoxicated member of his family. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to hold this idiotic behavior against me and even agreed for another round of Vegas fun with us — even bringing my sister and brother-in-law (although this time we’ll undoubtedly be more tame with a one-year-old in tow!).
So long San Diego! Viva Las Vegas!! (The guy who took this picture cut out Ollie in the stroller -- he also told us to smile and say, " Victoria's Secret!" instead of "Cheese" -- so go figure)
Nothing quite says “Happy Thanksgiving” like flesh being ripped to shreds with battle maces and axes.
This year, Resident Evil V was an integral part of our holiday celebration. Literally, from sun-up to well past sun-down, Grey and my brother assumed the aliases of Chris Redfield and Sheva Alomar, and waged war against bio-terrorism in a fictional African town. While the rest of my family was clean and dressed (and above ground), the two of them were in their pajamas, eyes glued to the television as they plotted to to steal money off of dead zombies and blow up abandoned buildings.
Pose for a picture? Hell no, we can't remove our eyeballs from the TV screen!
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