Requiem for my brain cells

Yesterday was my kids' joint birthday party. It, of course, was a gigantic cluster. We had close to 30 people in our house at one time. Hilarity ensued. My kids got more presents then they could ever possibly play with. Hell, they have more presents then twenty kids could possibly play with. If my son didn't have ADD before, he does now. He's like a hummingbird flitting between flowers in rapid succession. But instead of collecting nectar, he's narrating various scenes of what the characters are doing, having multiple coversations before moving on to the next toy. He's having a great time or he's having a psychotic break. Tough to say at this point.

On the bright side, before the party, we still had some open spaces on the carpet that had not been covered by some kind of toy. Now I can literally walk from one end of my house to the other and never have to worry about touching carpet. A trip to the kitchen sounds like a montage of Disney movies as the toys activate and spew their vitrolic catch phrases. If I have to hear Lightning McQueen (From Disney's Cars) say "I am speed" one more time, I may have a psychotic break of my own....But I digress

In an effort to keep my sanity yesterday, I got Lindsay Lohan drunk.


This has become a birthday tradition with Daddy stumbling around making an ass out of himself (I think I'm quite charming drunk, everyone else, not so much), while various family members take pictures (See? Lindsay Lohan drunk). Yeah, my kids will end up on a psychiatrist's couch someday talking about how Daddy punched out the clown or peed off the deck (Stay Classy). In my defense, I try and keep the Old Testament drinking to once in a blue moon. Also, my wife and damn near every living relative we have were there. It's not like I took them shooting or something ("Here son, hold my beer and watch this..") Don't you judge me!