The holidays are always an interesting time in my life. I usually get the time off from Christmas through New Year’s - that leaves me with a lot of time on my hands that I normally don’t have. Usually, like most of you, I am scrambling around between work and other responsibilities. But for 10 days in December and the beginning of January, I have an excuse to be as lazy as Axl Rose when trying to put out an album.

But after a few days of this, I realize why I work so many hours, and always have something going. Like most of you, spending time with my family straddles the line between festive and annoying. Now, I know why I go to so many concerts, and listen to so many CD’s….

It usually starts around Christmas Eve, sitting with your family, and watching movies. But my family works a little different. We ditch the usual “It’s a Wonderful Life”, and “Miracle on 34th Street”. Want to know Christmas Eve viewing at the Michalski household? Yep, “Bad Santa”.

Nothing says the holidays more than Billy Bob Thornton urinating on himself five minutes into the movie. We’ve always being somewhat warped as a family, and gee, it rubbed off on me, if you haven’t noticed. But hey, the movie is twisted and funny, and its quickly becoming a classic at a certain family’s house in Southfield. I think we did watch “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation”, and hopefully gained some points back with the typical Christmas crowd.

Christmas Day. You get presents. You watch “A Christmas Story”. You get bored. Yadda, yadda, yadda…

How much fun is it after Christmas to fight your way through Best Buy’s parking lot, trying to find the new U2 DVD, when eight million kids are off school the same time as you? So, let’s watch some sports, because that seems to be the only thing that gets me through when I have this much time off.

I asked Santa for a Michigan win in the Alamo Bowl, to end their dismal season on a good note. But like most other things in my life, this wish went unfulfilled. They blow another big lead, and snickering from Columbus and East Lansing can be heard. The next night, I went to the Pistons versus Heat game. With the way Shaq was being booed every time he got the ball, you would have thought he was the one in a hotel room with a 19 year old hotel clerk in Colorado.

My travels took me back down to Toledo, to see Clutch at Headliners the night before New Year’s Eve. Imagine a venue resembling a cross between the Double Deuce in “Road House”, and someone’s house party, and you’ve got Headliners. I didn’t get to see Patrick Swayze or anything, what a crock!

New Year’s Eve: Everywhere I turn, there’s Ryan Seacrest. He’s making pastries, he’s in New York. If this isn’t a reason to be blind drunk, I don’t know what is. And can Hilary Duff please take a break, the girl looks as tired as I do after a three day bender in Vegas. Anyways, everytime I saw Seacrest, I grabbed another beer. Seacrest wasn’t the only one out by midnight; I was out and faceplanted in someone’s bed shortly there after.

That’s the last ten days of my life. Now I'm back to pissing off the readers of Detroit Buzz, and back to my day job.

Thank God! My liver and my wallet could use the rest….