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Today is a day that will live in infamy. 5 brave people stood up to a reign of terror than has lasted well over 30 years. The 3 children of MIL decided that no more shit will be taken and the the outlandish rudeness will stop and two were supported by spouses. It did not come without many battles throughout the day but she was thwarted at every turn. The final battle came around the great fire pit when SIL told her she should return to her dwelling (go to bed) if she is going to be negative and rude. MIL desperately looked for support, which she did not find, before heading to her nest. For over an hour now the victorious children have celebrated the win and regaled each other with battle stories from the day, something that has never happened before. The battle of breakfast, the battle of prime rib, the aggression of cleaning before guests, the counter insurgence of child rearing criticism, and finally the battle of fire pit. We may be lean, but for the first time we are unified and organized. The MIL has been put on notice, with a clear directive, that she shall ruin no more holidays. The long game has won. Let freedom ring. On a more serious note, she was really told repeatedly that she is ruining everyone’s Christmas with her negativity and lashing out. Sounds like everybody has felt the same way for a long time and we finally got organized in supporting each other in putting a stop to it. Hallelujah.

Impeaches and Cream

My wife invited her single friend who has three daughters over for tamales on Christmas Eve. Wife starts drinking at lunch, continues to drink, never takes a nap. I tell her from the beginning, "Uh, you might want to pace yourself. Kim is good people and all, but I don't really want to spend Christmas Eve alone with her." So, my wife is heavily buzzed when they get there, proceeds to drunkenly give some expensive designer jacket out of her closet to one of Kim's daughters, continues drinking and disappears to bed midway through dinner. Kim and I hang out for a bit and shoot the shit -- I kill most of a jug of eggnog she brought over, and then she takes her kids and goes home. Wife wakes up two hours later and bitches me out because, "It's inappropriate for you to be hanging out with Kim alone on Christmas Eve." Then we get into a massive, ridiculous fight that she was too drunk to remember the next day. Merry Christmas!

My nieces and nephews are talking about college. My nephew is a savage. Niece: “if I go to college...” Nephew interrupts her: “you gonna get a train run on you by all the players on the football team.”

Were Ohio State with less 5 * Texas High School players.

We’re Ohio state but without the elite head coach

You pressed post on Christmas Eve, didn’t you. You can answer when you get home.

Update on Cracker Barrel for Christmas Eve Lunch. Turns out, unbeknownst to anyone who bothered to plan this lunch was that there are in fact two Cracker Barrels in Waco. Our plan was to meet at 11:30. Around 12:15, only half the family had arrived. And of course the people hadn't don't have cell phones. So guess who got to drive their ass down to Hewitt and retrieve grandma?

My family is 1,600 miles away back in the greatest state so a FaceTime call yesterday was all we got. Easy peasy. However our friends invited us over for her family Christmas dinner, held tonight. This is important: of our friends, he is a state rep and she runs a lobbying firm. Both democrats, both Warren supporters. This isn’t a secret and they’re both well known and respected by both political parties. I go over early in the afternoon to help cook and, of course, to drink. She warns us Christmas dinner might be interesting. I get excited cause I absolutely love family drama when I can be an in-person spectator. Dinner is supposed to be at 5:30. Strike 1: At 6:15 her parents roll up, along with the uninvited niece and the niece’s rat terrier. Strike 2: Mom and dad are wearing MAGA gear. Strike 3: 10 minutes into dinner the terrier tries to eat our friends’ poodle. The niece doesn’t care and when they tell her to lock her dog up she goes and sits in the car. Strike ... 4?: after dinner. before dessert mom says she hopes they aren’t having children unless they start supporting Trump because her heart couldn’t take an indoctrinated grandchild. They leave without even eating my banana pudding. Watching someone else’s family drama in person is better than any broadway show we’ve ever seen.

FIL got tanked and cried while we watched old home movies. Made numerous comments of how much thinner MIL was during her early years. I laughed and drank most of the Weller.

weird way of saying, "my mom."

Fewer.

Bought the gold top will be here Wednesday

Brexit hasn't even fucking happened yet. How it will affect England, the UK, and the EU is still unknown. Trump's tax cuts have sent us back to recession level deficits and we've exhausted the tools we'll need when the economy eventually stalls to give the rich tax breaks. This shit will come to a head. The trade war had an extremely negative effect on farmers to the point that we've bailed them out to avoid bankruptcy, and our trade deficit is larger than ever and still growing. That's just touching on your points and not even getting into him fracturing our alliances, our respect and influence on the world stage, or his cruelty-first immigration policies. People who don't have their heads up their asses notice these things and lose trust in people like you who are dumb enough to think he's better than the alternatives.

Dad asked my wife if she wanted a glass of wine (didn’t ask me because I’m pretty sure he thinks only women drink wine). She took a sip and almost spit it out because it was so bad. A few minutes go by and he says it’s from the same bottle he opened last year.

Put this fucker together and got done at 2AM. Boys were up at 6..... And fuck whomever was in charge of the English directions as they sucked and their were errors all over the place which force me to unscrew a couple sections to fix said errors. Winning the family tournament on no sleep the next day took some of the pain away. No Mercy.

Having to take the golf cart to go smoke weed with the cows has been about as rough as it’s gotten this year.

And Tom Cruise is a civilian so you do not salute him. But you better listen to him because the Pentagon listens to him.

A chronology of events for Saturday, December 4, 1999, and the early morning hours of Sunday, December 5, 1999: 6:00 Arise, play the Eyes of Texas and Texas Fight at full-freaking blast 6:20 Get in car, drive to New Braunfels 7:30 Tee off (me and a buddy were the FIRST tee-time of the morning) 8:50 Turn 9 (crack open first beer) 8:53 Crack open second beer 8:58 Crack open...(you get the idea) 10:30 Finish 18 (holes, as well as beers), sign scorecard for smoooooth 95 10:35 Headed for San Antonio (Alamodome - Nebraska vs Texas) 10:50 Buy three 18-packs for pre- and post-game festivities 11:10 We decide we don't have enough booze, so we double-back to a liquor store and buy the good ol' 750 ml plastic bottle "Traveler" Jim Beam 11:50 Arrive at the tailgate spot. Awesome day. Not a single cloud in the sky. About 70 degrees. 11:55 I decide that we're going to kick the ********** out of Nebraska. 11:56 I tell my first Nebraska fan to go f!!k himself. 12:15 The UT band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. We're on the second floor of a two-story parking garage on the corner (a couple hundred of us). We're hooting and hollering like wildmen. The band doubles back to the street right below us and serenades us with Texas Fight and The Eyes of Texas. AWESOME MOMENT. 12:25 In the post-serenade serendipity, 50-100 grown men are bumping chests with one another, each and every one of them now secure and certain of the fact that we are going to kick the ********** out of Nebraska. 11:00 The Nebraska band walks by on the way to the Alamodome. Again, we hoot and holler like wildmen. Again, the band doubles back and stops right below us to serenade us, this time, however, with the Nebraska fight songs. Although somewhat impressed by their spirit and verve, we remain convinced that we are going to kick the ********** out of Nebraska. 1:30 I begin the walk to the Alamodome, somehow managing to stuff the "Traveler" and 11 cans of beer into my pants. 1:47 I am in line surrounded by Nebraska fans. They are taunting me. I am taunting back, still certain that we are going to kick the ********** out of Nebraska. I decide to challenge a particularly vocal Nebraska fan to play what I now call and will forever be remembered as "Cell-Phone Flop Out." Remember flop out for a dollar? The rules are similar. I tell this Nebraska jackass that if he's so confident in his team, he should "flop out" his cell phone RIGHT NOW and make plane reservations to Phoenix for the Fiesta Bowl. And then I spoke these memorable words: "And not those damn refundable tickets, either! You request those non-refundable, non-transferrable sons-of-b!tches!" He backs down. He is unworthy. I call Southwest Airlines and buy two tickets to Phoenix, non-refundable and non-transferrable. Price: $712. He is humbled. He lowers his head in shame. I raise my cell phone in triumph to the cheers of hundreds of Texas fans. I am KING and these are my subjects. I distribute the 11 beers in my pants to the cheering masses. I RULE the pre-game kingdom. 2:34 Kickoff. Brimming with confidence, I open the Traveler and pour my first stiffy. 2:45 I notice something troubling: Nebraska is big. Nebraska is fast. Nebraska is very pissed off at Texas. 3:01 The first quarter mercifully ends. 9 yards total offense for Texas. Zero first downs for Texas. I'm still talking **********. I pour another stiffy from the Traveler. 3:36 Four minutes to go in the first half: the Traveler is a dead soldier. I buy my first $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. While I am standing in line, a center snap nearly decapitates Major Applewhite and rolls out of the end zone. Safety. 3:56 Halftime score: Nebraska 15, Texas 0. I wish I had another Traveler. 4:11 While urinating next to a Nebraska fan in the bathroom at halftime, I attempt to revive the classic Brice- ism from the South Bend bathroom: "Hey, buddy, niiiiiiiiice c**k." He is unamused. 4:21 I buy my 2nd and 3rd $5 beer from the Alamodome merchants. I share my beer with two high school girls sitting behind me. Surprisingly, they are equipped with a flask full of vodka. I send them off to purchase Sprites, so that we may consume their vodka. I have not lost faith. Nebraska is a bunch of pu$$ies. 4:51 No more vodka. The girls sitting behind me have fled for their lives. I purchase two more $5 beers from the Alamodome merchants. 5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I am beginning to lose faith. This normally would trouble me, but I am too drunk to see the football field. 5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm sorry, sir. Those tickets have been confirmed and are non-refundable and non-transferrable." 5:37 I try to start a fight with every person behind the concession counter. As it turns out, the Alamodome has a policy that no beer can be sold when there is less than 10 minutes on the game clock. I am enraged by this policy. I ask loudly: "Why the ************ didn't you announce last call over the f**king PA system??!!" 5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in my chair in defeat. All of a sudden, the Texas crowd goes absolutely nuts. "Whazzis?," I mutter, awaking from my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?" Alas, the answer is > > >>no, we were not winning and we did not score. The largest (by far) cheer of the day from the Texas faithful occurred when the handlers were walking back to the tunnel and Bevo (the Texas mascot) stopped to take a gargantuan ********** all over the letters "S", "K",and "A" in the "Nebraska" spelled out in their end zone. I cheer wildly. I pick up the empty Traveler bottle and stick my tongue in it. I am thirsty. 6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as I walk back to the truck. I would taunt them with some off-color remarks about their parentage, but I am too drunk to form complete sentences. With my last cognitive thought of the evening, I take solace in the fact that if we had not beaten them in October, they would be playing Florida State for the national championship. 6:30 Back in the car. On the way back to Austin for the basketball game. 8:00 Texas-Arizona tip off. We can still salvage the day! I crack open a beer. It is warm. I don't care. 7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am hungry. I go inside the store. I walk past the beer frig. I notice a Zima. I've never had a Zima. I wonder if it's any good. I pull a Zima from the frig. I twist the top off and drink the Zima in three swallows. Zima sucks. I replace the empty bottle in the frig. 7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the store. I walk to where the ingredients are, where the person usually makes the sub. There is no one there. I lean over the counter and scoop out half a bucket of black olives. I eat them. I am still hungry. I lean further over the counter and grab approximately two pounds of Pastrami. I walk out of the store grunting and eating Pastrami. The patrons in the store fear me. I don't care. 8:01 We are in South Austin. I have been drinking warm beer and singing Brooks and Dunn tunes for over an hour. My truck-mate is tired of my singing. He suggests that perhaps Brooks and Dunn have written other good songs besides "You're Going to Miss Me When I'm Gone" and "Neon Moon" and that maybe listening to only those two songs, ten times each was a bit excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, Icould just let the CD play on its own. I tell him to ************ off and restart "Neon Moon." 8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My truckmate, against my loud and profane protestations, parks on the top floor of a nearby parking garage. I tell him he's an idiot. I tell him we will never get out. I tell him we may as well pitch a f**king tent here. He ignores me. I think he's still pissed about the Brooks and Dunn tunes. I whistle "Neon Moon" loudly. 8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers stuffed in my pants. We're going to kick the ********** out of Arizona. 9:11 Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona 29. I am pleased. I go to the bathroom to pee for the 67th time today. I giggle to myself because of the new opportunity to do "the bathroom Brice." There are no Arizona fans in the bathroom. I am disappointed. I tell myself (out loud) that I have a "Niiiiiice c*ck." No one is amused but me. 9:41 I walk to the bathroom while drinking Bud Light out of a can. Needless to say, they do not sell beer at the Erwin Center,much less Bud Light out of a can. I am stopped by an usher: "Where did you get that, sir?" I tell him (no **********): "Oh, the cheerleaders were throwing them up with those little plastic footballs. Would you mind throwing this away for me?" I take the last swig and hand it to him. He is confused. I pretend I'm going to the bathroom, but I run away giggling instead. I duck into some entrance to avoid the usher, who is now pursuing me. I sneak into a large group of people and sit down. The usher walks by harmlessly. I am giggling like a little girl. I crack open another can of Bud Light. 9:52 I am lost. In my haste to avoid the usher, I have lost my bearings. I have no ticket stub. I cannot find my seats. Texas is losing. 10:09 Texas is being screwed by the refs. I am enraged. I have cleared out the seats around me because I keep removing my hat and beating the surrounding chairs with it. A concerned fan asks if I'm OK and perhaps I shouldn't take it so seriously. I tell him to ************ off. 10:15 After the fourth consecutive "worst f**king call I have EVER seen, " I attempt to remove my hat again to begin beating inanimate objects. However, on this occasion I miscalculate and I thumbnail myself in my left eyelid, leaving a one-quarter inch gash over my eye. I am now bleeding into my left eye and all over my shirt. "Perhaps," I think to myself, I'm taking this a bit seriously." 10:22 I am standing in the bathroom peeing. I'm so drunk I am swaying and grunting. I have a bloody napkin pressed on my left eye. My pants are bloody. I have my (formerly) white shirt wrapped around my waist. I look like I should be in an episode of Cops. 10:43 Texas has lost. I put my bloody white shirt back on my body and make my way for the exits. I am stopped every 20 seconds by a good samaritan/cop/security guard to ask me why I am covered in blood, but I merely grunt incoherently and keep moving. 10:59 With my one good eye, I have located the parking garage. I walk up six flights of stairs, promise that when I see my friend I will punch him in the face for making me walk up six flights of stairs, find the truck, and collapse in a heap in the bed of the truck. I look around and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I take a nap. 11:17 I awake from my nap. I see my friend in the driver's seat. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I am too tired to punch my friend. I call my friend a "Stupid c**ksucker." 11:31 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c**ksucker." 11:38 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c**ksucker." 11:47 I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is lined up all the way around the garage, six whole flights, and no one is moving. I call my friend a "Stupid c**ksucker." 11:58 I am jostled. The truck is moving. I lift my head to look out the bed of the truck and notice that traffic is beginning to move on the second floor. I jump out of the truck, walk to the edge of the parking facility, and pee off the sixth floor onto the street below. My friend looks at me like I just anally violated his minor sister. I turn around pee on the front of his truck while singing the lyrics to "Neon Moon." 12:11 We are moving. We are out of beer. I jump from the truck and go from vehicle to vehicle until someone gives me two beers. I am happy. I return to my vehicle 12:26 We have emerged from the parking facility. We make our way to my apartment and find Ed sitting on the couch with a freshly opened bottle of Glenlivet on the coffee table in front of him. We are all going to die tonight. 12:59 We have finished three-quarters of the bottle of Glenlivet. We decide it would be a wonderful idea to go dancing at PollyEsther's. Ed has to pee. He walks down the hall to our apartment and directly into the full length mirror at the end of the hall, smashing it into hundreds of pieces. We giggle uncontrollably and leave for PollyEsther's. 1:17 The PollyEsther's doorman laughs uncontrollably at our efforts to enter his club. "Fellas," he says in between his fits of spastic laughter, "I've been working this door for almost a year. I've been working doors in this town for almost 5 years. And I can honestly say that I ain't never seen three drunker mother f**kers than you three. Sorry, can't let you in." We attempt to reason with him. He laughs harder. 1:44 We find a bar that lets us in. We take two steps in the door and hear "Last call for alcohol!" I turn to the group and mutter: "See, dat wasn't that f**kin' hard. Day don't f**kin' do that at the Awamo...the awaom...the alab...************ it, that stadium we was at today..." We order 6shots of tequila and three beers. 2:15 Back on the street. We need food. We hail cab to take us the two and one half blocks to Denny's. The cab fare is $1.60. We give him $10 and tell him to keep it. 2:17 There is a 20 minute wait. We give the hostess $50. We are seated immediately. 2:25 We order two orders of fried pickles, a Cobb salad, a bowl of soup, two orders of Blueberry blintzes, two Reuben sandwiches, a hamburger, two cheese stuffed potatoes, an order of fries, and an order of onion rings. 2:39 The food arrives. We are all asleep with our heads on the table. The waiter wakes us up. We eat every f**king bit of our food. Most of the restaurant patrons around us are disgusted. We don't give a ************. The tab is $112 with tip. 2:46 I'm sleepy. 9:12 I wake up next to a strange woman. She is a waitress at Denny's. She is not pretty.

Might as well start this now

Jesus Christ on a popsicle stick, Dan. I even added a winky-smiley face, because I was pretty certain that if I didn't, people would think I was serious. And yet here you are, demonstrating that -- yet again -- there are no limits to human obliviousness.

What’s embarrassing is all the assumptions that are made without any actual knowledge of situations.

Good hire. Yurcich and Ash isn't a bad pairing at all. Now go win football games.

Dude, this is like one of those moments in a slasher flick when they are standing around catching their breath while they are standing over the bleeding and crushed body of the killer after they have shot, stabbed, poisoned and run it over, and at last, they will have peace. And then the killer's eye opens, and its hand reaches for that one knife they forgot to kick out of reach....

My dishwasher's cycle is about 28 days.

Y'all rang?

We've had Sadie (Great Pyrenees and some sort of shepherd mix) for about 2 and a half months. She's a fantastic dog, as I've mentioned on here before. We've been looking for another from the same rescue to pair with her. The first one that we met was on a farm where the previous owner just let her keep having more and more litters. There were over 30 pyrs on that property and she had most of them according to the rescue. The other day the guy from the rescue said that she has regressed and probably wouldn't be a good fit with us (we have 5 boys at home, so it's a bit active). He brought another (her name is Lady) over on Tuesday and she's the one. She was at the same farm, but is about a year old. When he brought her to the house to meet us, she was a bit shy, but really opened up with my youngest 2 boys. There were many tail wags and a few kisses given by her. She also got along with Sadie, even when we brought her into the house. Wife got a call from the guy at the rescue today... "Well, Lady is pregnant." The plan was for her to get spayed on New Year's Eve, but that's going to have to wait. We were going to get her in January after healing up. Now we'll be getting her next week and we will foster the pups after they get here.

So we have a Yaklich coaching basketball and a Yurcich (allegedly) coaching football . . . I'm suddenly hungry for pierogis and placki.

Quick preview of your new offense.

The wifi at my mother's house. This is medieval.

I’m really optimistic about Malik finally getting some good coaching and reaching his potential.

If we learned anything from recruiting in the latter Mack Brown years, it is that it's really easy to sign a bunch of paper tigers. And there is more than ample evidence to support that players that commit to UT get a bump in their ratings. But holy lack of self awareness Batman. I would like to direct Chin Pubes to the stellar track record of the Lucci 44, where he has taken "doing zero favors" to coaching staffs by overating high school football players to an art form.

Christmas night we go to my sisters house and everyone gets along just fine except BIL. Complete idiot who enhances every occasion by drinking beyond excess and saying stupid shit. This years best included calling something weird, "gay", this right after his son came out last month. Son looked at him like "wtf, you idiot" Idiot BIL said "What? We're not about to be all PC at Christmas!" Stupid fucker, always awkward, his own kids fucking hate him. We watch "Die (It's not a Christmas Movie!) Hard" , drink and open gifts (mostly giftcards, which is fine) The best part is the Sunday night after Christmas, that's GAME NIGHT where everyone brings their favorite game and all 24 of us bash the shit out of each other for 5-6 hours of some great fun and laughs (Idiot BIL usually leaves after about an hour) The best part of this year, is after an extensive child custody case, Mullet jr. jr. will be attending the first GAME NIGHT of his life to make it 25 this year. Very cool, very cool indeed.

You just don’t understand basketball like I do. It’s about the young men, and the young men enjoyed making that NIT run. It’s not about your selfish desire to see a competently coached team that actually develops said young men. Cant you see how much a young man like Gerald Liddell developed because of that NIT run? That young man wouldn’t have been able to develop nearly as much if he had a good coach who got him to the tourney where he had to play other young men who are good at basketball instead of beating up on a bunch of cupcakes while winning the NIT. /greggym

Austin from FL320 a couple nights ago on way to Corpus. Bonus third pic coming back north over San Antonio ... Happy holidays.

Plus several decades of the conventional wisdom being, "eat small regular meals", "breakfast is the most important meal of the day"...

The thought of a threesome is hot so we went with it.

I thot I thaw a putty tat.... I'll see myself out......

one of em....

Is Tom Herman’s OC going to be; A: Good enough to keep Tom Employed? B. Able to help win 2 more games than Beck did? C. Bad enough or good enough, depending on your perspective, to shut this clown show down and usher in a new Era? Now, I know I don’t know as much about football as the 7 or 8 posters that patrol this board like a bunch of mean girls, spewing words of wisdom and giving us epic internet gold with their profound takes and comments, like only they know how to do, but so far, it really is starting to feel like we should have just paid up and got it over with.

I’m not going to actually read this thread to see if this has already been posted.

Miracle on W. 43rd Street: a White Christmas in Houston.

So Baylor is her school of choice?

.

Let’s get weird

Merry Christmas Surly