The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. CXXX

What do you get when you cross a Disney Princess with an unruly Karen from the '60s? I'll show you. . .

Album Title:  Christmas Is:

Album Artist:  Pamela Wilson

So, yet again, we have ourselves here another dollar bin find from the local record store, and, as usual, I was drawn to the album cover. Pamela Wilson isn't the sort of 'artist' I'm familiar with, but on account of the album cover - which features what might be the ugliest collection of Christmas ornaments ever assembled and photographed by man - this was an inevitable purchase.

She strangled seals with her bare hands to get that coat.

Ornaments aside, the center focal point on said cover is Pam herself, all wrapped up in furs that, based on the joyless, dead look in her eyes, were probably skinned off the animals while they were still alive, trying to protect their young. Pam kinda looks like the sort of Karen who would tear into a 16-year-old, minimum-wage supermarket employee on her way home from church (because of course she's a church-going 'Christian') because she can't find diced tomatoes in a 32 oz can. 

So, musically, the arrangements here - the instrumentation and backing vocals - sound like they should be played in a 1960s department store. The levels are decent, the arrangements - if not a bit too hokey for my liking - are produced well. This is classy, elevator music that one could shop to without being offended by, say, upbeat tempos, jazzy chord progressions, or any of that sorta thing. 

But what about Karen er, Pam herself? Can she sing?

Well, that depends. Do you think Ariel from Disney's The Little Mermaid can sing? How about Snow White?

Guys, if that's your jam, you're absolutely gonna love this one.

Pam's voice sounds like she should be either frolicking with animated forest animals, or else trying to steal bloody teeth from underneath kids' pillows while they're asleep and replacing it with small bills. It's so high pitched and filled with vibrato that it's hard not to envision her floating about the studio in a sparkling, pink tutu bedazzled in glitter, waving about a wand of some kind.

A pretty reliable track listing from Pamela and the rest of the Lollipop Guild.

Everybody likes a little sugar here and there, right? Scoop of ice cream, can of pop, a cookie, whatever your weakness is? Now imagine being forced to wolf down an entire bowl of straight sugar in a single sitting. With a spoon.

That's what listening to Pam is like.

From Our House to Yours. . .

Like the other day when I was complaining about an entire album's worth of baritone singing on a Christmas record - that's right, I'm talkin' about you, Jim Nabors, you ridiculous bastard - an entire album of soprano singing is equally abrasive. Even though the track listing on this release falls well within the 'safety zone' for a Holiday release, listening to the squeaky, peppiness of Pam f***ing Wilson for two whole sides makes one's teeth ache after awhile.

For Christ's sake, I feel like I've been reviewing cartoon records this last week, what the actual f***. . . 

VERDICT:  3/10 - Seriously? (The 'ying' to Jim Nabors' 'yang,' good ol' Pam Wilson shoves her high-pitched, cartoon-y vocals down the collective throats of the masses, whether they're asking for it or not. Nobody needs this in their lives, America.)

- SHELVED-

- Brian

Summerhood

Hi again, fans.

As the soggy month of July grinds to a halt, here's some more visuals from the Houghs' last couple weeks.

Bam!

Playing in the rain - swapping out swords for umbrellas this time around.

Getting them to put up the Disney Princess umbrellas can be a pain in the ass. . . not surprisingly.

The Cannonball

Abby shows off her Ariel umbrella

Rockin' Hello Kitty boots (those Japanese were on to something. . .)

So the pool - on its third summer of heavy use - finally sprung a leak.  Well, technically it's the same leak from last summer, but, seeing how it's late July and all - and I'll be heading back to school next week for class prep, etc. - we decided to drain the sum'bitch. . .

The kids are going to have about a week of bathtub-level water to splash around in before we put the thing to the curb (the pool itself is only $90 - it's all the accessories that get ya - so we can just buy another one next summer)

Two Power Rangers, armed with Fire Smashers, engage battle with the sinister Mom Monster. . .

The Hough gals suit up for taking their PowerWheel out on the town er, subdivision.

Abby got to go first, but didn't bother to stop to let Alayna jump on.  She also had a tendency of going off-road, and kicked the gas pedal instead of holding it down.  Basically, it took her about five minutes to drive the length of the sidewalk in front of our house.

. . . so we let Alayna take a crack at it.  Turns out she's a pretty good driver.

Hell on wheels.

Rollin' through Ginger Mill

Getting them tooths clean.

Another big fan of Dad's camera obsession. . .

Drawing Power Ranger 'symbols' (some magical crap from the show, I don't know) with bath crayons.  In the show, the symbols are Japanese. . . and I'm not well-versed in Japanese, so I don't know if these are 100% accurate or not.

This'll teach those frickin' kids to stand up in the bathtub. . .

Another stormy sunset over Central Florida. . .

Hawks have really, really taken a shine to our house.  There were four along the fence (two flew away by the time I came back with a camera.)

. . . the swords come out. 

Fighting bad guys in the rain

Dancing around the front of the house, as yet another massive storm comes barreling down on us. . .

Abby utilizes the Virgin Mary's old 'stage.'

Alayna's turn.

Kris shows Abby how to doll herself up. . .

Abby helps Kris out with her eyes. . .

. . . then does her own.

And of course, a three-year-old has to have lipstick.

- Brian

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. . .

Abby joined us later, but she doesn't have the whole 'pedal moves the bike forward' thing down yet, so our excursion was short-lived.

And it begins. . .

Entranced.

With Tinkerbell movies, Kris and I don't need to worry about being awesome parents all the time.  God bless you, Disney.

Family Skypin' Christmas, Round II: the Congleton Family.

New purses from Grandma and Papa John. . .

A combo gift from Kris, Mom and John for my Study: an Old World Globe Bar.

Dinosaur jewelry from Uncle Chris & Aunt Jenna.

3:40pm.  Officially 'funned-out' with Christmas.

(She likes elephants.)

Our house will never be clean again.

Assembling the new bar. . .

Family Skypin' Christmas, Round III:  the Jordan Family.

A Belle dress from Aunt Jessica and Uncle Rob

Dress-Up Time

The Study: now slightly more sophisticated.

364 days and counting, people.

- Brian