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“Alas, Poor Yorick 3000…”

Hope Santa was good to you all yesterday. As you can see above, much glee ensued here at the homestead, despite the little bastards waking us up at 3:47AM Christmas morning (and being forced back to bed until 6AM, goddammit), and a MISERABLE trip to Busch Gardens the previous day.

It sounds odd, does it not, to associate the word “miserable” with a theme park excursion? The Boychild has some issue with standing in lines, even if the end result will be something amazingly fun, and grumps and stomps and basically makes his presence intolerable to everyone in attendance. Add in the extra bonus “picking on his sister until she, too, is grumpier than a toothless cat on Mouse-Eating Day” and you have a really execrable way to spend Christmas Adam. So, we’re swearing off theme parks for a while. And the next time we go, we’re going to make the kids pay for it so they can see what it’s like to waste $200.

I need a nap.