We all know that the double-extra helping of gravy-smothered Christmas potatoes is going straight to our ass. And we know that were not going to go to the gym until at least a month after Inauguration Day. We also know that we are going to hide out in our Fortress of Solitude until Snowbird packs his little computer-animated suitcase and gets the hell out of our face. Basically, we have come to grips with our distaste for winter, our love of carb-o-rific hibernation food, and our preference for whiskey in bed over, uh, having to stand outside to smoke a cigarette, clutching a cold drink, and cursing the America-hating assclowns who tinkered with the states smoking laws. But we also know that the Mashville crew keeps it rugged, and their parties are always a blast. Even if we look a little doughy.
Sat., Dec. 27, 9 p.m., 2008
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