Christmas Eve is normally my favorite day of Christmas. It's when we open most of the presents, not to mention have time to ourselves for a few hours without my jerky relatives around and Mom's not spending all of Christmas Day scrambling to make food. I really missed doing it last year when we were at Aunt Susie's instead.

This year, however? Christmas Eve sucked.

I found out on December 23 that (a) the parents wanted to go to church at 5 p.m. (normally we'd go at 11 p.m.), and then right after that (b) we had to go over to the PITA aunt and uncle (Dolores and Bruce) for HOURS AND HOURS of dinner before they went to church for the night. We all dreaded that, but God forbid we not see them on Christmas Eve because we live in the same town and all.

Ever since I moved out, nothing gets done for Christmas. While the tree was actually up this year (Mom got guilted into it when Uncle Bruce said if she didn't put up the tree, he would), there weren't any ornaments. Between catering to Dad and uh, catering to Dad, she doesn't get anything done. Ditto any present-wrapping. So when I get home on Christmas Eve Day, I plan to spend the day playing catch-up.

Only this time it didn't happen. We didn't get home until 11 Tuesday night because Mom insisted on cleaning my apartment before we left. And she has all of the presents and the ornaments hidden somewhere that only she can get to. So I had to have her assistance in fetching me presents and ornaments before we could do them. She had to go to work until noon Christmas Eve Day, so I figured I could sleep in and get an entry written before she got home.

Har de har har.

The computer is in Mom and Dad's bedroom, and Dad didn't even wake up until noon. And I really can't use the computer very well at their place because he won't stop harassing me when I'm on it. I have to ask for permission, and at first he told me no because it was broken. (It wasn't.) Then the Internet went down a few times. He wouldn't leave me alone for the first hour I was trying to write anything on it. Then he finally left the room, but periodically came in and bitched at me to get off the computer and DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. Oy.

Meanwhile, Mom left work at oh, around 2. Didn't get home until around 3. Then she had to spend the next two hours giving Dad a shower in time to leave for church at 4:30. Suffice it to say, nothing got done at all.

Church was actually the best part of the night, and that's saying something coming from me. It was a short (30-40 minute) service, mostly singing, and they read from a book called "Wombat Divine." You gotta admire ministers who pick a book about a wombat to read. Maybe next year they should do "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever," a personal favorite of mine. They even brought back the candlelight service.

Unfortunately, the early finishing service meant that we got to D&B's even earlier.

Oh dear god.

The first thing upon getting into the house, as usual, was Dad having to go to the bathroom. Since it takes oh, 25-45 minutes per visit for him to go, about every other hour (it is very sad that I know this), this left me alone with Them. Often. Mom said afterwards she felt so sorry for me.

And now commences the part of the entry where on the fifth day of Christmas, my relatives said to me.... in order, mind you... well, let's just say that they managed to top themselves with perhaps The Worst Comments Ever. You might want to read last Thanksgiving's entry just to refresh on the horror, and THEN see how they topped it.

(a) "So, what did he get you for Christmas? Get a diamond yet?" And then they actually grabbed my hand to check.

My response: "I don't know what he got me, I'm not seeing him for Christmas." Technically, I can use this excuse, even though I already know the answer to this one (there is no gift; there's no money for it).

(b) Once my parents returned, after Auntie Dolores whined that she thought she'd NEVER have grandchildren (oh, please, your youngest got married at 19, wasn't that going to be inevitable?), they asked Mom if she was going to have any grandchildren soon.

Yup. I'm so fat I look pregnant now.

Keep in mind that this comes from the people who (a) got knocked up before marriage and refuse to admit it, and anyone who says anything gets killed, and (b) threw shitty fits when Ron and his ex-fiancee were going to share a bedroom on vacation. Yes, they WANT me to be illegitimately pregnant. Probably to knock me off my perfect pedestal, eh?

Our response: "No."

(c) Right after this pregnant question, mind you, I got asked if I "have any other boys on a string." Because since my boyfriend is such a loser because he hasn't given me a diamond for goddamned Christmas for two years now (and should we ever cave in and buy a diamond to shut them up, I assure you it will NOT be for goddamned Christmas) and got a job but it's not a REAL job (more on that below), and he hasn't knocked me up, I should just go find someone else who will. I said no.

"Aren't there any nice boys in Davis?"

"I went through them already."

"What about parties? Ever meet any at parties?"

"Nah, parties aren't happening much any more." I proceed to tell the story of the one frat party I went to and how lame it was. Their response was that I should give it three more tries before I give up on frat boys.

So basically, they want me to get pregnant by some drunk frat boy at a party. Nice! Classy!

(d) Upon having one of those conversations about who can curl their tongues, it went on to tying knots in cherries with them, which I can do. I was told that I should get married and have children so I'd have something better to do than sit around tying knots with my tongue all the time!

(e) Uncle Bruce started in on me about how I have to find a guy who will let me stay home with my babies someday. I said there's no fucking way I'd stay home when I don't like spending more than two days sitting at home. This was the one point in the evening when he fucking shut up.

They also took some nice pot shots at my parents.

Dad got fed up with the Catholic Church long before I was born, but yet they still insisted on asking Dad when the last time he went to church was. "Just now."

"I meant to Mass!"

(dead silence from Dad)

Mom: "Well, you didn't SAY Mass. You said church." Mom told me later that she'd wanted to say "Well, he doesn't LIKE your church!"

They also ragged on Mom for not inviting them to New Year's dinner. Frankly, Mom doesn't have it in her to invite them over any more, but only having them IN THEIR HOUSE so the assholes can snoop and rag on us afterwards will do. God forbid you can't take them out to dinner in exchange.

I was so incredibly grateful that Dave wasn't there. As far as I'm concerned, he isn't meeting these dicks until after the wedding.

Sucking it up and ignoring their comments is the only way to deal with them. (Laurie always shoots her mouth back off when they say something, and look at the doghouse she's in. 'Nuff said.) Mom said afterwards she thought that we won by not stooping to her level. I said I didn't think we won so much as we didn't hand her more ammo to shoot us with.

Anyway, their goddamned nastiness pretty much ruined the night. We drove around and looked at lights for awhile, then were too tired to even open any of the (wrapped) presents that night the way we usually do.

I'm still seething. I am so tired of them thinking they are so much holier than us. Looking down on us for the wrong church, for Dad being sick, for us not hosting them for dinner, looking down on us for watching a few television shows ("we NEVER watch television, only the news," and they have an enormous TV), wanting to know if Mom managed to get the tree up or not, rag rag rag. I can't say I blame Mom for not wanting to have me start sharing holidays when they've been such a blast for her.

Though I did get an actual decent gift from them this year; glass millefiore earrings and pendant from Venice. The best part of the night.

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