January 03, 2007
A Star Wars Christmas
First, Redhead Silkstone had to get dressed for the party.
She's all, "What -- this old thing? Why, I only wear this when I don't care what I look like!"
Bitch, please.
Here's capitalism at it's finest. Ol' Dubya is so proud of us!
Yes, we have wood panelling in the basement. I'm not proud. It was there when we moved in, and now that it's become known as "The Brady Basement," we just don't have the heart to change it. Besides, it goes so well with the brown shag carpeting!
The Boy Child got some Star Wars action figures. And THANK GOD because the fourteen thousand he has at home barely keep him occupied.
Obi Wan is either going to deliver the smackdown WWF-style on the stormtrooper, or he's going to make sweet, intergalactic love to him. And with Boy Child calling the shots, it could go either way, really.
This photo of Darth Boy Child is kinda fuzzy because I had already taken two ping-pong balls to the head.
Later, Husband cauterized my gushing headwounds with a lightsaber, so I'm okay.
This is Darth Boy Child's mentor, Darth Sheldon, seen here donning his reading glasses because he can't see Yoda without them.
Yeah, he needs a haircut, but it's so difficult with the helmet and all.