Michelle and Anna both called me screaming saying they loved their presents, and I in turn said I loved my presents from them, which I totally do. I almost cried when I read what Michelle wrote on the inside cover of a book she bought me - "To Krista, who will be my bridesmaid at my wedding, and an auntie to my children...I love you!".

We usually spend the majority of Christmas with my Mom's side of the family, and they're all super rich. I'm not exaggerating, my grandparents and my mom's two sisters live in crazy huge mansions with celebrity-style pools and basketball courts. I can't even describe the size of my youngest aunt's new house they just bought - where we spent New Years Eve. It's just...enormous. I've never been in a house like that before in my life. There are four seperate stair cases just to take you from one floor to the next.

I can't even imagine what it's like being my cousins. They're all these perfect little kids, wearing little Tommy flared jeans and puffy vests and it all kind of freaks me out. They all take ballet and ride horses and take pilot lessons (my uncle owns a helicopter. Like, a real one. They have a landing pad on their property) and they own every video game system and every electronic device ever known to man. My youngest aunt's daughter, Lindsay, she's one of the most beautiful kids I've ever seen. She has such a pretty face, and long, layered blonde hair and blue eyes, and she wears all these little trendy clothes...it's like staring at this 8 year old kid that you just know is going to turn into the popular rich girl at school. She's sweet and really outgoing, always jumping around and singing. And oh MY God, is she going to throw one hell of a party in that house...

It's rather odd being a child of the one daughter who didn't marry rich. If we're spending time with my Mom's side, it'd never, ever be at our house. In fact I can't remember the last time either of my aunts stepped foot into our house, period. Being with them is like entering a completely different lifestyle altogether, because my Dad's side is quite the opposite. Tomorrow is my Dad's side, and that is at our house - because out of all of them, our house is the biggest! It's utterly bizzare.

I love my Mom's family because they're the craziest party people ever, and I like to think I fit in. They're probably alcoholics, but like...not in a destructive way, you know? Five minutes after arriving, I was standing in the kitchen with this guy I've know forever who is a year older than me, and we're still confused as to what our relation is to each other exactly, but it's not by blood. He's probably one of those "removed" cousins, whatever that means. Anyway, he's always been super hot and I've had a crush on him ever since I can remember. Even this year, I made sure I looked really good because I thought maybe he'd be there, and I only see him once a year at best. Anyway his name is Russell and we're related and it's really wrong and an entirely different issue altogether...but I digress. I have real problems telling stories.

I was standing in the kitchen with Russell, talking to him beside this bowl of punch, and my Grandad walks in. He doesn't even say hello to me, or Merry Christmas - instead he whispers to me, "So have you spiked the punch yet?". I said, "Uh, no" and he said, "Well, why the hell not?!" and pours a mickey of vodka into it. At dinner, I counted nine different bottles of wine on the table. After dinner we had coffee with five different kinds of licquer to add to it, plus people still drinking wine, and my aunt and her friend Erin (I love Erin to death) taking shots of straight Cognac. Oh, and wine after coffee. It always gets rowdy. I did a lot of alcohol sneaking to my brother, which was a difficult task as my Mom got really angry with my Dad just the other night for letting him have hard alcohol. She was eyeing the three of us trouble-makers extra closely.

I could tell a million stories, and as much as I'd enjoy that they're probably not that interesting. The bottom line is, I had a good Christmas, and I need to spend more time with those people. You know, pretending I'm high class.

Of course we came home, to our normal suburban house, where my brother and I spent the next hour playing Super Nintendo on his bed. It's a Christmas tradition to play Super Mario World on Christmas Day, and I can't remember how it started. I assume it's because for a few years in a row, we'd always get the new gaming system for Christmas - Nintendo, SNES, then N64, then Playstation. SNES never dies, though. I could play Mario forever. In fact I can beat the entire game with every single secret, including the entire Star World, only dying once, in 3 hours and 6 minutes. I told you I'm a dork.

Now I'm just about off to bed, and I can't exactly remember all I've written about today, but I feel pretty happy.

Merry Christmas...

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