T'Was The Day After Christmas

I trust everybody is beginning to recover from their alcohol slash food haze brought about by the copious amounts of bubbly and the questionable consumption of a slightly stale lopsided gingerbread house with Hershey's chocolate shutters. I regret to inform you that amongst my various Christmas duties, I was required to sit through the film, "Julie and Julia" from start to end, which provided enough cheese for one of the hefty French baguettes that ample Julia Child probably ate as a midnight snack. Amy Adams' character's obsession was neither remarkable nor endearing, it was creepy and aggravating. Julia Powell, thank you for wasting two hours of my life. And thank you for making me feel blissfully normal.