No animal was injured in the unwrapping of this Christmas morning.
Despite all appearances, we are not hunkered down here with guns and cannons and flaming menorahs.
Well, not so much of a whomp as a plop, but it’s looking like a white Christmas.
Yes, Chuck. I remember what it was like to Christmas shop in flip-flops in LA. I feel your pain.
I suddenly looked up and, oh. Christmas is next week. Next week. Or, as Leta puts it, THE FARTHEST AWAY ANYTHING HAS EVER BEEN!
Whenever I get a shot of Chuck mid-yawn I imagine him having a very thick Midwestern accent.
The look that says he knows he did something wrong but he’s not sure why it’s so wrong.
We practice political correctness in this household especially when decorating the dog.
My dog loves me for one reason only and I can’t really blame him.
This is so insane considering how much a bag of these damn things costs.