This is her life, my mother.
She goes crazy.
Did your mother do this?
She decorateseverything in the house,
with the Santa Claustoilet seat cover
and the "Ho Ho" toilet paper?
Ho ho for your ho-ho.
I think that's adorable.
But here's the weird part.
The first day of advent, shesets up the manger scene.
And she sets out all ofthe pieces of the manger,
except for the baby Jesus.
She hides the baby Jesussomewhere in our home.
And at midnight, December 24begins the hunt for Jesus.
And we dig apart my parents'house kicking and screaming,
actually forked my sisterin the butt to find him.
Because we desperatelywant to win the prize.
Do you know what the prize is?
You get to put the babyJesus in the manger!
And it's desperate that weget him situated as quick
as possible, becauseuntil he is in the manger,
we cannot eat the babyJesus birthday cake.
My mother has thesame cake every year.
It's an angel food cake withCool Whip frosting and M&Ms.
I'm sure he's thrilled.
And then, she scurriesaround the house
to find as many candles aspossible-- as close to 2000--
and lights them.
We have to wait 10 minutes toblow them out for that never
happening occurrencewhere Jesus will actually
come himself and blow them out.
Now, I don't care howreligious you are.
When you're a grown adultstanding in a semicircle
around a coffee table andthere's a cake with lit candles
on it with preservatives andmelted wax, and you're singing,
"Happy birthday, dear Jesus--"You can't help but crack up.
And this is when mymother has a cocktail.
My mother is oneof these people,
she doesn't really drink.
She buys that wine ina box with the spigot.
It's that pink wine that lookslike watered-down Pepto Bismol.
And she has one glassof wine and she snaps.
She looks at us like she'snever seen us before.
Like all of asudden, her family's
been replaced by KGB agents.
She walks to the livingroom and says, "You know,
someone's been rearrangingthe ornaments on my tree."
Why don't you put your underwearon the inside of your clothes