The Houghs: 2012

Sunday, December 30, 2012

White People Mall

As you may recall from previous posts, we Houghs fancy any family outting that ends up with us staring at animals in captivity.

Hence our obsession with Sea World.

With only one more day left until our annual family passes were set to expire, we decided to enjoy one last afternoon of taking pictures of our kids watching dolphins swim aimlessly about a tank.

Unbeknownst to us at the time of our leaving the house, every single person in Orlando was struck with the exact same idea.

We had never seen Sea World so backed up; it took a half hour just to pull up to the ticket window. Once through the parking entrance, the lot itself was packed full of idiots who were doing the exact same thing we were trying to do. Knowing that inside the park would be even worse (Seaworld's thoroughfares bottleneck like crazy, making a simple action like 'walking around' nerve-wracking as it is), we convinced our kids that Sea World was 'too busy' and decided, instead, to try out a new mall so Yours Truly could return a shirt.

Which sounds just as cool as 'Sea World' when you're four years old.

Favorite Shirt, ca. 2008 (feat. tax deduction #1)

Kris bought me a western-style shirt for Christmas from Sheplers - the clothing line that constructed my all-time favorite shirt (which I've worn religously since I was 19 - see above).

I hadn't been able to find another one like it since, so when she stumbled across this store recently, she promptly snatched up a shirt for me. The fit and material was the exact same, but - seeing how I'm pretty anal when it comes to clothing - I wanted to see if they had the shirt in a different color. So, with Seaworld out of the equation, so we decided to make a family outing out of it.

Shepler's is located in the Festival Bay Mall, which sits near Inter-national Drive, deep within the bowels of Tourist Hell. We braced ourselves for the inevitable, knowing that anything touristy in Orlando means traffic congestion, packs of pale-skinned fanny-packers, and lots and lots of stupid people (see botched Seaworld venture above).

You can therefore imagine our shock and surprise upon entering the Festive Bay Mall and finding it utterly deserted. . .

The place was nearly empty. Maybe a dozen other folks walking around. That's it. What freaked me out more than the lack of people, however, was the lack of stores. You'd figure a shopping complex deep inside enemy territory would be chock-full of people ready to burn off the extra cash in their pockets, but nay - nearly all the storefronts we passed were barred up. In fact, besides Sheplers, we really only saw three other places that displayed any sign of human life: Outdoor World, a blacklit put-put course and arcade, and a Cinemaplex.

Seriously.

To make things creepier (if that were at all possible) was that the mall was in pristine condition - not like other decaying shopping centers I've had the misfortune of strolling through. It was clean, well-lit, and looked like a decent place. . . just without, you know, people and stores. Those individuals we did come across all had one thing in common:

They were all white.

Now, I'm no racist, but I think it's pretty fair to say that here in Central Florida, our demographics are fairly misrepresentative of the rest of the country. We're an urban melting pot, and our diversity in ethnicity and culture reflects that.

. . so why the hell do whites gravitate towards the Festival Bay Mall while all others avoid it like the plague? What is it about Outdoor World and Shepler's Western Wear that screams 'WHITE PEOPLE!!' and discourages non-white folks from-

Oh. Nevermind.

I guess I answered my own question.

She was pretty pissed we failed to get her this for Christmas.

This closed store was completely empty. . . except for a gigantic, yellow submarine. So if any of you guys out there are in the market for a new submarine, and fancy yourself the color yellow, I believe I may be able to help you out. . .

Anyway, here's a few things I learned during our visit to White People Mall:

1.) I should've been buying shirts at Shepler's my entire adult life. Holy crap, that store rules. Had I done so, my life would probably be way awesomer. I'd probably be stunt man or a bounty hunter or something badass along those lines instead of a measly middle school history teacher. And I'd probably drive a more bitchin' car. With racing stripes. AND I'd probably have a super-sweet mustache.

I'm just sayin'.

2.) I need a gun. That's the first thing that crossed my mind when I walked into the Outdoor World/Bass Pro Shop. Not that I'm big on shooting guns, but whenever you pass by a wall display of hundreds of firearms it's nigh impossible to not imagine yourself shooting bad guys and dangerous animals and whatever other nastiness might try killing your family members.

Am I right, folks?

3.) I miss mid-Michigan. Not all the time or anything, but whenever you find yourself surrounded by that redneck, boot-stompin', townie-vibe you can only find in a sporting goods store or a county fair, you can't help but miss rural Clare County. The Festival Bay Mall succeeded, if only for an afternoon, in giving us a small escape into a Jay's Sporting Goods-eque world, and it was very nostalgic. Of course, none of us Houghs are avid fishermen, hunters, or outdoor enthusiasts. . .

. . .but that's besides the point.

- Brian

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Santa's Hypin' Skypin' Christmas (feat. the Houghs)

Merry Christmas!

(Kris and I really ate these)

As I stared, wide-awake, at the alarm clock at 5am this morning, I had to mentally remind myself that I was a grown-ass man, and not some footed-pajama-wearing child, anxiously awaiting the piles of present underneath the family Christmas Tree.

As we all know, Brian Hough is 32. And he no longer sleeps in footed pajamas (though if they made cool ones, I'd probably think about it).

The stage, set.

Regardless, I haven't been able to sleep well the Night Before Christmas as long as I can remember - I've always been too excited about the prospect of running into the living room and assaulting the presents under the tree like some drunken Mongol. So I was forced to quasi-sleep (where you wake up and check the alarm clock every five minutes) until about 5:50am, when I finally said 'screw it' and jumped in the shower.

My goal was to have the tree and all the lights on, with the video cameras rolling, for when the girls woke up. This was truly the first Christmas where the whole 'Santa's coming to our house and bringing presents' thing was really hitting home with the girls, so we wanted to make sure we, as parents, didn't totally blow it.

Mission accomplished:

Upon discovering that Santa had NOT forgotten our house (because that was the number one fear from the night before), Alayna made a beeline straight for her new Disney Princess 12-inch we got for her (well, technically Santa got it for her). . .

. . .Abby's first reaction upon waking up, however, was to walk past the living room completely, ignoring the presents entirely, and ask for apple juice. As it turned out, she was pretty sick with whatever the hell it was that Kris had over the weekend. . .

It doesn't matter what it is. . . if it has Disney Princesses on it, it's a sure-fire win with this kid.

I'm sure our kid gets just as excited over school/craft supplies as other folks' kids do over toys. Middle School is going to be hell on earth for this kid. . .

I decided to get a fire going. Had to wake up early to chop firewood, but hell. . . my roommates are worth it.

Saber-shaped tie-clip. For the distinguished professional.

Abby's gut had her couch-ridden for the majority of the early morning gift-opening. . .

. . . so for every four or five presents Alayna opened, Abby probably opened one (which would become an issue towards the end of the day, when Abby had a stack of presents to open and Alayna had crap).

Remember ViewMasters? We decided to get the girls a couple of those this year. Believe it or not, you actually end up paying more for the reels than you do the viewers themselves. . .

(Kris was a big fan of them, too)

Daddy is SLOW.

On Christmas, kids can more or less do whatever they want. Like ride their bikes indoors. Screw it.

Modeling a size-too-small throwback

Abby's main gift from us this year was some creepy-ass doll that speaks, snores, laughs, drinks from a bottle, etc. etc., plus all the accessories for it. Abby decided to name it 'Baby Commonia.' . . .Who knows.

Family Skypin' Christmas, Round I: the Hough Family. Papa and Nana called us via Skype around 7:45am, kicking off our 12-Hour Cyber Christmas.

Showing off new presents

How to 'Nog in style. . .

We had to keep Abby hydrated throughout the gift-opening gauntlet - she ended up shitting her pants four times by the time it was 10am. Diarrhea rules.

Dunkin Donuts. Kris' home away from home.

Stocking stuffers

Throughout the many Christmases, Alayna and Abby probably netted 24 tubes of chap stick, lip gloss, etc. It'll all be gone within the week.

My favorite show since I was 9. The day the stop making the Simpsons is the day you find me with a shotgun in my mouth.

The girls received a lot of books for their Tag Readers this year (we're really pushing the whole read-before-you-reach-kindergarten thing around here.)

Christmas at the Houghs

You need a PhD in robotics to work this thing. . . but Goddamn is it ever pretty.

Bling (and yes, that's a Charlie Batch jersey. Shut up.)

"PRINCESSES!!!!"

"KEEEESH!!!"

Hough Family Christmas Breakfast of Champions, est. 2000.

After our Skype session with my parents, the Cannonball and I took a break from the computer so we could try out her new wheels about the neighborhood. . .