I have received a hearty number of phone calls, e-mails and text messages inquiring about my well-being following what transpired in the National Football League yesterday...

A full report will follow shortly. But for now, I will leave you with this photo and an assurance that I am fine...














...and will answer questions like "Why is this car covered in shrimp" shortly...

A very Merry from Jersey Girl and the trifecta of her favorite crazy kids...

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

My friend David sent me a link to the five most terrifying local TV Christmas commercials and made sure to point out the first one, a Red Bank hobby store with overly spirited owners. He sent the e-mail at 4:30 a.m., which can be the only explanation for his failure to jump directly ahead to the fourth commercial, as classic a minute and 37 seconds as I have ever seen...



I'm just going to let that speak for itself. But I will point out that there is a web site for Jones Big Ass Truck Rental and Storage, in which the proprietor refers to himself as a former "Street Pharmaceutical Sales Rep."

Consider that an early Christmas present from your friends at Wine by the Color...

Things were going well...

I watched my younger nephew shine as a wise man in his nursery school's Christmas pageant. I took some time off from work and spent a few lovely days with the Captain. We enjoyed the first real snow of the year, which we braved only to hit the diner. We did a whole lot of nothing outside of build a fire, watch crap television and enjoy each other's company. I sent the first saucy Christmas-themed e-mail to myself ("Give Your Girl Christmas Fever"). I found some old friends on Facebook. I had a terrific wine-filled lunch with Mary Ellen (and really, don't cocktails in the mid-afternoon taste just a little better?). I spent some quality shopping time with my brother and made a huge dent in the gift wrapping. I baked some cookies, did all the laundry, finished the Christmas cards and was overall pretty damned pleased with myself.

And then, the game started and it all went to shit...















Pretty weather. But one of the ugliest games I've ever seen.















Originally, I planned to head down the shore to watch the game with the Captain and his friends. But I needed to accomplish a bevy of holiday-related tasks today, so I stayed home. And thank goodness I did, for otherwise his friends would think I am an absolute crazy person. My behavior during the game was not great. And the post-game pouting was definitely unbecoming (and, quite frankly, has yet to end, almost five hours later).

A few of the e-mails and text messages I sent following the conclusion of the game:

-I may never watch football again.
-Fuckers. Fucking Jets. Fuckity fuck fuck.
-As someone who threw my jersey across the room, I understand and support that move (in response to a text from The Captain, who reported one of his friends had cut up his Jets sweatshirt and tacked it to the dartboard in the bar).
-A huge assumption. I'd fire him on the plane on the way back home. Dumb dickhead (in response to a comment about Mangini's future and whether he'll hold practices on the West coast next year).
-I haven't been this cranky in a VERY long time. It has been an afternoon of tantrums at Casa Magnolia.
-Perhaps the only good thing to come from today's fucking shitfest debacle is that it's less likely they'll flex next week's tilt to the night game.

Shortly after the game ended, I sent the following e-mail to the Professor: As Jets fans, would we rather they lose to Miami next week, thus allowing the Dolphins to make the playoffs? Or do we root for the win, which would likely mean another trip to the playoffs for the Patriots and their douchbag coach?

It's like a Sophie's Choice for Jet fans. And I don't have an answer.

Despite some lackluster attendance at the gym recently and nutritional days like Sunday, where I ate a sausage and cheese sandwich for breakfast; a burger, Doritos, pepperoni, cookies and four Guinness for lunch; and a steak, fries and another Guinness for dinner, I remain in relatively decent shape and fairly flexible thanks to yoga.

But I assure you, if I were to attempt what this hearty lass does at the end of this video, I would seriously injure a number of body parts:



The saucy e-mails I'd been sending myself at work had temporarily subsided but have returned with a vengeance...

-Ram her twice longer
-Use ancient love powers
-Doctor Pickle
-up to skies sizable
-give your wang more meat
-your shaft'll look like a skyscraper
-Does Chunk need upsurge?
-Make Love Log grow
-mass kidnapping
-had one pilulle and acted champion-like
-good head by celeb
-proved facts of male body improvements
-digg it deeper in to her
-key of massive pole's located not too far

And this one, sent along by a friend:
-Your love torch won't blow out‏

I can only hope that within the next week I'll kick it up a notch and start to give these a holiday theme.

Speaking of this festive season, the annual holiday merriment started last night with an outing with several friends from work. We went to an outstanding establishment fairly close to the office. How I have worked there for eight years and never been to this joint was a source of confusion to the others in our party and an embarrassment to me. It's a wonderful place that featured, among other things, properly poured Guinness and incredibly tasty mac and cheese. I will be returning.

As a sidebar, there are few things I enjoy more than happy hour with good friends. I didn't enjoy driving home in a snowstorm after the outing, but it was worth it.

Finally, I think today is the day the NFL will announce whether the Jets-Dolphins game next weekend gets flexed to the night game. Should that happen, which I'm certain it will, you will be able to hear my crying and moaning no matter where you are.

The game was over.

The Jets were done, two minutes from losing their third consecutive game, this time to an opponent that has been in a tailspin for two months. The simmering bitterness was starting to erupt in the stands. One of my fellow fans vowed to not return for the Jets-Dolphins season finale in two weeks, while two others discussed the possibility that this loss would cost Mangini his job.

And then, a miracle...















From nowhere, the Jets snatched a victory. The defense, which had been sleeping all day, woke up and won the game. Well, terrible play-calling and execution by the Bills helped hand the game to the Jets. Whatever words you chose, the result was the same:

All hell broke loose.

After a review of the play confirmed a Jets touchdown, the crowd went bananas. In the ensuing celebration, the Professor took an ungainly tumble over the chairs into the row in front of us. Upon his return to an upright position, he decided his next celebratory move would be playfully punching his father in the arm. Unfortunately, that necessitated extending his arm past the person between him and his father - me.

He missed.

Normally, I would not enjoy getting punched in the nose. But given the circumstances, I brushed it off and continued the merriment, which featured so much yelling I fear I may have permanently damaged my vocal chords. A post-game meal at the happy house of meat did nothing to help the voice, but did give my tummy a delightful exclamation point on the day.

Five notes from the game...

1. It was a beautiful December day - sunny and crisp. It was cold and windy during the tailgate, but compared to two weeks ago it felt like a summer day.

2. Past experience has taught us that wine and egg nog (the tasty Pennyslvania Dutch version which conveniently comes pre-made with rum, brandy and whiskey) do not mix well. Imagine my delight to learn egg nog and Guinness is a perfect combination.

3. Along with our normal slate of beer, wine and other miscellaneous adult beverages, there were two additions to the cocktail menu. Someone made jello shots and another tailgater brought something called Tequila Rose. It looked like strawberry Nesquik. But laced with tequila. Trouble.

4. The caption on this photo on the NY Times web site reads: Jones's touchdown was set up with a run by Brett Favre, who wobbled up the left sideline, looking very much like a 39-year-old quarterback, gaining 27 yards as if in slow motion.



















As you can imagine, I saw it differently. My caption would probably include words like "valiant" and "youthful." Agree to disagree.

That said, I actually yelled at His Holiness later in the game, when needing eight yards for a crucial first down with an open field ahead just begging for a run, he chose to throw an ill-advised pass that fell incomplete.

I immediately regretted my hurtful words and promise it will never happen again.

5. Before anyone brings it up, I am not yet ready to discuss the probability that the Jets-Dolphins game will be for all the marbles, and that Chad Pennington will arrive at the stadium with a chance to knock the team that abandoned him out of the playoffs.

I am also not ready to acknowledge the likelihood that the NFL will flex that game to the night game, to make it a national prime time game. A late game on Dec. 29 will not make for happy, sober fans.

And that brings us back to Halloween...

We started the day at Matthew's nursery school parade, which is amusing but really a circus of countless children and their aggressive photo-taking parents being shoved into a small, hot room. So, no pictures of that.

Then it was on to Adam's school parade, which was fortunately an outdoor affair. However, my oldest nephew was way too involved in the proceedings to really look at us as he marched by, so no pictures of him.

But his brother and sister were more than happy to mug for the camera...














Sweetie Pie Princess was much less interested in sitting still...

After school, following the traditional Halloween meal of hot dogs and beans, it was finally time for trick or treating. All SPP needs is a costume. Or pants...

Mario and Luigi are ready to go...

Classic moment between the two younger siblings. Matthew has clearly done something to raise SPP's ire. SPP is giving him some baby-profanity sass, and Matthew offers his sweetest "Who me?" look...

You try getting three antsy kids together for a photo moments before leaving the house for trick or treating...

The crazy trio with the twins next door...

Perfect trick-or-treating form...

Back home, SPP starts to crash from her day-long sugar high...

Her oldest brother, however, is still chock full of energy...

"Ah, candy..."

"I'll kiss you, Aunt Jersey Girl, but I am not taking my eyes off my candy, or anyone who might try to steal it..."

Lest you think this ends the photo dump, fear not! I still have pictures from our pumpkin picking outing, and then we can finally discuss my trip to the Bayou. I realize these aren't the timeliest of photo galleries. Just pretend I'm a Gannett newspaper (which, by the way, is still being delivered, despite having been canceled more than a week ago).

Moving right along...backward, of course...

Thanksgiving was a lovely day, spent at my parents' house. Some of us were a step slow, the result of the previous evening's discovery that the local bar finally put Guinness back on the menu, a night on which I finally closed my eyes at 5:33 a.m..

So while I napped through the day's awful football games, Matthew did his junior chef self proud by preparing a wonderful pumpkin pie...




















He's also smart enough to know that if you hang out in the kitchen, eventually someone will hand you the whipped cream beater...




















Meanwhile, his sister amused the crowd with gales of laughter...




















and a variety of party tricks (for instance, hanging upside down)...




















On Halloween, I won a pair of novelty glasses at the bar. I almost left them there that night because I thought there wouldn't be much use for them. Instead they have turned into an ongoing source of amusement. And SPP knows good shtick when she sees it:














Sweetie Pie Princess demanded I wear them, which she greatly enjoyed. My mother was more interested in why I was wearing pearls with a t-shirt (probably a fair question)...















The next day, the whole clan headed south to a small amusement park near AC, which offers an opportunity to visit with Santa and Mrs. Claus, thousands of Christmas lights and decorations, and rides in the freezing cold. (It also features one of the loudest web sites I've ever visited. Seriously, anyone with sensitive hearing should steer clear.)

Sweetie Pie Princess' good mood from the previous day continued as we waited to visit Santa, where she intended to ask for a doll.















And then, the good mood abruptly ended...
















I love Santa's beleaguered "Oh crap, another screaming weeper" look, while the crazy nephews continue to hold form with bright, best-behavior smiles.

So then, there were two...
















We tried a few rides to help SPP recuperate from the ST (Santa Trauma), which seemed to work. After a chilly ride on the train, we attempted to get everyone to sit still and smile at the camera. That didn't work quite as well...














I love roller coasters and a variety of nausea-inducing rides, but I don't care for things that spin repeatedly. So kudos to my father, who rode the tea cups with Matthew several times...















Because repeated spinning is just what my beloved younger nephew needs. He's crazy enough on his best day...














My cousin and his family then arrived, which led to some good cousin bonding. They are not playing a game of Pull My Finger, although it's easy to see how one could think that...














Adam, the elderstatesman of the cousin quintet, shows everyone how it's done in advance of the big group shot. There's a certain responsibility to being the first-born. I should know, as the oldest of my generation of cousins...




















And then everyone sat down and promptly started looking all over the place, distracted by the littlest of things. So this was the best I could do...



















And then it was time to go. The adults had a "meeting" in Atlantic City and the children were looking a little chilly. But still smiling...

If you thought what transpired between 4 and 7 p.m. yesterday would be enough to ruin my weekend, you'd be mistaken. It certainly wasn't a highlight, but fortunately there was plenty of fun to be had elsewhere...

And for those of you who visit Wine by the Color for photos of the crazy nephews and their equally nutty sister, this is your lucky week. Let's start with the past two days and then we'll move backward throughout the week. If you wondered what the trio looked like for Halloween, you should know by Thursday...

After a lovely outing with The Captain Friday night, which included some delicious Thai food, Saturday started with a trip to cut down a Christmas tree. I think this is one of the kids' favorite days of the year, ranking high with Halloween, their birthdays and Christmas itself. You might not think there would be much to do except select a tree, but that would be erroneous.

For instance, Matthew, who was wearing his husky head hat, found a stick, which immediately became a sword. He then ran around like a crazy gladiator...




















He kicked it up a notch by pulling the hat entirely over his face. Anything to look a little crazier...




















After inspecting every tree on the eight-acre property and at least 14 suggestions that "we could get a Charlie Brown tree" and another dozen references to "it's not going in the yard, Russ. It's going in the living room," a winner was finally chosen...














And then two young boys were handed a large saw, which they couldn't quite believe but rather enjoyed...












Emily was exhausted by the proceedings and passed out en route to her cousin's birthday party that afternoon...




















After I ran errands for five hours Sunday morning (and let me tell you, 7 a.m. is the best time to be in a store during the holiday season. I was one of three customers in Wal-Mart and the staff was friendly. One of the female employees was belting out Christmas tunes while she worked, which might sound annoying but was actually rather lovely), the nephews visited Casa Magnolia that afternoon to help decorate my tree. Under the backdrop of the Giants-Eagles game, Adam was given the job of separating the branches of my not-quite-live tree.















And why is he laughing? Because as the three of us discussed our family's football allegiances, he suggested the Cowboys' name should be changed to the Farts. "Why?" I inquired. "Because they stink," he replied in a fit of giggles.

I don't know where they get this stuff, but about two weeks from now, I'm going to start snickering as I sit in a meeting and it will be because I'm thinking about The Farts.

Meanwhile, Matthew delicately unwrapped ornaments...













And then, there were two Christmas miracles: all the lights worked, and the boys displayed solid teamwork to finish unwrapping the ornaments, with no fighting...














There are probably more sports-related ornaments here than any grown woman should have...




















The boys were terrific helpers but eventually became antsy and started asking to play video games. So to regain the crowd, I did what I had to do ... yes, I put Christmas lights on my head...














Let me assure you, should you ever need to regain the attention of two small children, put lit lights on your head. It is quite the crowd-pleaser.

The tree complete, it was time to bask in the glory of everyone's work and settle in for the Jets-Niners game.




















And then their sister came for a visit...




















where she admired the ornament of college football's only two-time Heisman winner (at least for another five days)...














What she did not enjoy was the Jets' effort. Nor did her aunt.

At least there are no more California teams the Jets can lose to this season...

Why oh why does my body not understand that Sundays are meant for sleeping in...but when you're up at 5:05 a.m. on a Sunday, this is the sort of thing your mind wanders to...

My affinity for rap music started during my teen years, a product of my inner-city high school. Ok, that might be a bit of a stretch, but that is indeed where it started. One of my friends on the boys' basketball team was always listening to this song I loved despite not knowing the name or artist. So this morning I decided to try to find it. The song, "Yo Little Brother," was an early rap classic - a gritty warning from a street-wise brother trying to keep his younger sibling from repeating his mistakes.

Or so I thought...



Seriously, what is going on there? The guy who sang it was white? And dressed in pastels? And a bowtie? And doing somersauts? It's like a horrific version of West Side Story and Sesame Street gone horribly wrong. And what the hell are Prince, Ric Ocasek, Cyndi Lauper and Bruce Springsteen doing there?

And how have I never seen this before? This seems like the kind of thing that would have been very popular on MTV.

Overall, I do a much better job managing my ire than I did in my younger days. Outside of idiotic drivers and my friends at Continental Airlines, not much gets me really fired up anymore.

But then I come across something like this and I truly want to harm someone. Namely, whichever newspaper exec thought this was an acceptable way to boost revenue...














This is a photo of a house fire in a neighboring town. The family's four dogs were killed in the blaze and it seems possible the home will be a total loss.

But not all is lost. That's right - you can buy this photo to hang on your wall, to commemorate this family's suffering!

Give the gift of photography! Order now for delivery by Christmas. Final days for delivery by Christmas!

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Look, if they want to make a few extra bucks selling photos of random community events or little Johnny and Susie playing sports, fine. But how fucking hard would it be to remove the Buy This Photo tag from things like this?

On a day when hundreds of people in the newspaper industry lost their jobs, it only serves to further raise my blood pressure to see people who make decisions like this, to make a buck selling photos that capture personal tragedy, prosper while people who actually care about reporting the news and seemingly outdated things like good writing and editing are put out on the street. Done, of course, three weeks before Christmas.

I'll be calling to cancel the paper tomorrow. I can only hope they ask why I'm terminating my subscription...