I woke up. With my eyes glued shut. So I went to my uncle the eye doctor. And I have Pink EyeS (YES THAT IS PLURAL) PINK EYES. I look like a monster.
Last night I arrived home to help my Dad with the Christmas lights (last year went a little like this: Him falling off ladder. Him hanging by one hand on roof. Him screaming "CATCH ME DAMMIT!!!" Him plunging stomach first. Him screaming "WHY DIDN'T YOU CATCH ME?!?!" Me just standing there peeing me pants. ANYWAY-- after we finished decorating the tree this year and it was established that I was ugly with my Pink Eyes, my Mom really and truly said this to me: "Looking at your poor red eyes makes my own eyes water....(pause)....3 minutes...Now go get ready for the Christmas card photo."
Obviously I said NO. The Christmas card photo is one's only redeeming factor for all the bad pictures that might have been taken throughout the year. The Christmas card photo is the SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT photo of the year. It is sent to everyone in my Mother's address book from 1983. And don't even try to deny that everytime you open the Christmas card photo of a friend, you scrutinize and criticize until you have established that Suzie Smith has gained 12 pounds, is wearing a sweater with a toothpaste stain on it, and has chipped toenail polish....ultimately nodding your head once with a smug grin on your face as a signal of your final satisfaction...like you think you look better...like you aren't looking at Suzie Smith's photo at home, sitting in your sweats from high school, wearing a pepsi t-shirt without a bra, drinking eggnog from a mug and eating a fat ass piece of pie.
And because I refused to take the Christmas card photo with my Pink Eyes, there will be no Christmas card photo from my family this year. That is the price you pay to keep your outstanding Christmas card photo reputation my friends.
Also, I stole 3 of my Dad's ornaments for my own tree.