So here I am...a bit hung over...on Christmas morning. We're all a little beat right now...in our typical Fox Family fashion, we drank a little more than we should have last night. I'm fine...I paced myself and drank a lot of water between glasses of chocolate liqueur, Bailey's, shiraz, and of course, Jim & gingers. However, my dad, who was being called Drinky Drinkerson by my sister Hillary, totally outdid himself, and had to go back to bed in the middle of opening presents. My mom was a little mad, and berated him for getting too drunk and hung over at the age of 62, but he handed her a small package that turned out to be enormous and gorgeous diamond earrings. She burst into tears and thanked my father, who said, "I love you, babe. Now I'm going back to bed."
He's smooth like that.
I, for one, don't think he's hung over. Everyone else thinks he is, but I know my dad pretty well, and I've never seen him this bad. I think there's going to be a little virus sweeping through this family, and hopefully my flu shot is fully activated. I'll keep defending him and checking in on him every once in a while, and make sure he's hydrated.
More later...we're gonna finish opening our presents later tonight.
:::LATER...after one or two or six cocktails:::
Dad's pretty sick...he doesn't have much of a fever, but I think he has the flu; Hilly has been calling him Barfy Barferson. He came out for a bit so we could finish our Christmas morning (at 10:30 at night), but had to go lie down again. Poor guy...I'm still defending him. I'm sure he has more than a hangover.
Anyway...I totally cleaned up this year. Mom and dad, who know their gay son very, very well, gave me a really cool pair of Diesel sneakers, a tight black mock turtleneck, Girbaud, Armani, and Ermenegildo Zegna colognes, a calendar of vintage black and white San Francisco photography, a set of stainless steel barware tools (to compliment my cocktail shaker on my bar), and a 3-CD box set of The Beat Generation, which is a pretty funky collection of beatnik music and poetry. It's kinda wild, actually. I can't wait to go back and hang out in my North Beach apartment, throw a log in the fireplace, wear a tight black turtleneck, light a bunch of candles and a stick of nag champa, pack my bong, and chill out to Kenneth Rexroth, Jack Kerouac, and Alan Ginsberg, with a side of Ken Nordine and Rod Mckuen, make a plate of crackers and welsh rarebit, open some chianti, crack out my bongos (yes, I have bongos...don;t ask) and be a non-square FriscoHomoBeatFag.
I'm not kidding. I think I'm going to do that. :-)
Of course, CD players are SO last century, so I'll have to load it all into my 20-gigabyte iPod my mom bought me! Whoo-hoo! Go mom! No more 32-megabyte RCA K@zoo player nonsense for me! Now, I know there are 40 and 60 gig iPods available, but come on...20 gig is LOT of memory. Anything more than that and you're just in a pissing contest.
So I extend to everyone out there in the blogosphere, whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukah, Kwaanza, or whatever, a joyous holiday season.