Santa likes Thai bird markets.

Apparently the jolly fat man from the ever-shrinking Arctic brought us a special kind of gift this year. The flu. Specifically, the Asian Bird Flu type H1-B.

You may say, whoa Waakabee, there's no way in heck that your family contracted the Asian Bird Flu.

Am I being overly dramatic? Is Waakabee exagerating? Does the pope *&^% in the woods? Does a bear wear a funny hat?

All I know is that on Christmas Eve both mom and dad were incapacitated for the entire day. Dad recovered by the next morning, mom by Christmas afternoon. Then Grandma got it. And Big Pop was surely next. At first, dad chalked it up to the feast they had at Red Lobster the eve of Christmas Eve. But later, over New Year's, Nannie got it. So clearly dad, the fisherman's platter with extra butter sauce and a butter roll and butter soup, had with a tasty butter dacquiri, topped off with butter cheesecake desert was not the source of your illness. It may, however, account for your gi-normous man-boobs. Maybe Santa should have brought you a mansiere for Christmas, instead of the shop-vac.

Regardless, Christmas was fun, though the excitement was somewhat muffled by the sounds of family members hugging the porcelain. I received many exciting gifts and toys, not the least of which was an Exer-saucer. Sweet Tiffany Amber Thiessen that thing ROCKS. It comes equipped with a mirror, touch pad (zebra skin, no less), dangly doo-jiggers, hibbly-doos, and many other delightful spinning toys all arranged about the occupant in a circular fashion, so that no matter where a boy turns, there is whimsical fun and excitement to be had. It makes me so happy, I drool.

I was able to hang out with my cousins, too, who came over to visit. In the picture here, Big Pop contemplates how I and Gaberdoody are each approximately the size of his feet.


So we all got great gifts. We all ate a ton of food (some more than others). We watched movies and a lot of poker tournaments (hello!) and basically enjoyed each others' company. All of this was done to celebrate the birthday of Jesus. That's some honor. Jesus musta been pretty special to get his own day (mom says he was). This led me to do some thinking. Here's my conclusion. If that kid Jesus was half as popular as I am (and will grow to be), they'll have to make a whole separate holiday just for me. I think it should be called B-Day. People will say "Happy B-Day!", and "Hope you have a great B-Day!". There will be cards, and songs, and food and fun. And dad says there should be something called "hookers". Mom just slapped dad, so maybe there shouldn't be. But B-day, think about it. A B-day could be a lot of fun!

I'm going back to play with my new toys, especially the noodle, the knot monkey, and the exersaucer. Dad says he's going to play with his toys. Mom says he's going to help clean. Regardless, I'm happy, they're happy, and the future is bright, especially since a new holiday looms in the future for everyone. Christmas every December, and then once a year, we all celebrate B-day. You will thank me. I know you will. Happy B-Day, everyone!

That is all...