Home for the holidays!

So I'm home finally. And as any member of an on-again off-again disfunctional family will tell you, the holidays are a scary scary time. They usually offer stress, fighting, dissapointment and you get that feeling that a large piano should fall on your head or you should be shumshed by a semi....or maybe a semi filled with pianos, each of them falling on you at once. But SUPRISE! This holiday season hasn't been so bad. There were presents, glee, and we were about 2 steps away from looking like a Tv special. You know the ones, with Bing Crosby singing to his fake kids who all look eerily alike. But me and my brother put an abrupt stop to that. We mumbled stuff under our breaths, made fun of all family members alike (especially each other) and chatted heartily. The good thing about holidays is, there is this magic about it. Family is around and for some reason over joyed to actually see you, the food makes people happy, and I'm sure anti-depressants have something to do with it. The weather wasn't exactly wintery...more British than anything else, but it was good all around.
Then it set in...dreadfully so. The family started annoying you. You looked at them weird as the glimmer of normalcy died, and in came judgement. What good is any family without a good ol' fashioned grilling of ones life. What are you gonna do with your life? When are you going to graduate? Why are you with so and so when the other so and so is better? So you suddenly feel trapped, like Guatanamo Bay is the holiday fucking inn. Why is that? I dealt with these people for 18 years straight and suddenly spending two weeks with them is a fate worse than death. I wonder...
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