I finally saw the bad family Christmas card that my in-laws sent out. I wouldn’t say that I’m scowling, but I definitely look vexed. And I probably was, considering that Tim’s aunt went on some kind of freak-rant about how the wine Tim and I brought was dessert wine, which it wasn’t, but since she’s got shitloads of money* it apparently means that she knows EVERYTHING ABOUT WINE.
I’m not sure if the picture is the worst thing about the card, though. I’m not particularly happy having my name associated with a religious holiday card of the “camels visiting the Baby Jesus and have a blessed holiday season” variety. They don’t get that I’m not religious, nor is Tim. I keep getting religious geegaws from them: nativity sets, angel protection charms for my car, that kind of stuff. I have no idea what I’m going to do with it. Anyone want a primitive-style wooden nativity set? Come on! You know you do! The Baby Jesus looks like a peanut!
I am also not happy that the card is (electronically) signed “from the In-Laws Family: Nanette, Tim, [insert in-laws names here].”
Seriously, if I had wanted to send out holiday cards, I would have sent out my own damn holiday cards. I did not ask my in-laws to send holiday greetings on my behalf.
My 81-year-old grandmother was right, though: they do look like a bunch of dorks in the photo, what with the grinning and the festive holiday-wear. I swear I will never, ever let those people near me with a camera ever again.
*She also has a house that looks like a Miami drug lord’s hangout, circa 1983. The wallpaper in their downstairs bathroom kills me. It’s teal and magenta paintbrush swishes. I feel like people should be snorting coke off the top of her toilet tank. Someday I shall brave her and her stockbrokerbankerdude husband who refuses to acknowledge my presence and take a picture for posterity.