I love Christmas because my family gets uber in-the-spirit and likes to go all out. The best part is when we go up into Half Moon Bay and cut down our own tree. It's meant to be fun and a chance for family bonding, but it always ends up being the most ridiculous experience. This sums up the day pretty well:
Mom: Ange, I like that tree.
Me: Which one, Mom? Point to it.
Mom: (points with her lips in a general direction) That one.
Me: Mom, we're in a forest. More specific.
Mom: (starts mumbling and cursing in Tagalog) Why are you such a bitch?
Yes.
But the trip turned out alright. My dad found a HUGE tree and challenged my brother to be a he-man and cut it down.
Are those tears?
He got halfway, but I think the tree was winning at that point so my brother tagged out and my dad took over. He got to the core of the tree and started to blame his inefficiency on lack of electrolytes or something. So while he went and got a powergel and some 5 hour energy shots, I decided to test out just how well P90x was working.
Like a hot knife through butter.
With each pass, I'd saw through a half an inch, almost effortlessly slicing through the densest part of the tree. As I got closer to the other side of the tree, my brother started to panic, dreading that I get to make the final cut, earning the right to shout "timber!" To avoid him shitting his pants, I left the last three cuts to him. "Behind every great man..."
In any case, our Christmas adventure ended in our cute, 11 foot behemoth of a Christmas tree. Like Shaq in a cocktail dress.
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