My Own Personal American Horror Story

T'is the season to make millions of Christmas cookies in order to supplement my income and to buy my loved ones Christmas gifts that don't consist of a piece of paper stating, "IOU One gold bar when I become rich and famous" or whatever I can find laying around my room to regift. Yes, sir, I am pretty much an escapee of the Martha Stewart cooking school. So I have spent the past two days at my loving parents' house or as I like to call it, my own personal American Horror Story.

Give me the murder house any day. I ain't afraid of no ghost. The Leonard household with mere weeks to go before Christmas, however, is a different story. My next visit, I am planning to bring some Midol in hopes to control my father's mood swings and getting angry at the most trivial things. And I should probably just figure out where to get some horse tranquilizers for my mom. Unfortunately, I'd lose my baking buddy that way, but I wouldn't have to hear the same overly caffeinated story from the lady zip zooming around the kitchen leaving a trail of flour along the way. A trivial thing my father gets angry over? Trails of flour in the kitchen... which he doesn't really even use. I know it doesn't sound too horrifying yet, but did I mention my mother is once again addicted to the made for menopause TV movies on the Hallmark channel? And Sidney Crosby is out indefinitely. Again. I had to hear about that... from both the cougar and the angry one. On the plus side, I did find a rocking horse cookie cutter. Coming this Christmas to the Leonard household- the four rocking horses of the apocalypse! Perfect for ringing in 2012

I did get to go pick out the family Christmas tree though... It was a lot like that scene from Christmas Vacation, but take out the fun. And add this...

Holy backseat driver, Batman!

My mother keeps it in her backseat. I guess she wants Jesus, Mary and Joseph to take the wheel? I didn't want to get too close in fear of being struck by lightning and my eyes being burned out of my head, I saw that X-Files episode. However, the thing is truly horrifying. There's a Jesus one too, which was even creepier, but I made her leave it on the lawn so I could sit without genuflecting first.

After about an hour at the tree lot, we finally found the perfect one... or at least one that will do since it was dark by the time we left. And the ground was nicely aerated thanks to my boots. That's right, I was wearing heeled boots in mud to pick out a Christmas tree. I'm on my way to becoming a real girl!