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We choose joy over resolutions and admit it will take a fight, then ride through holidays, work shifts, and a kid inching toward high school with humour and heart. Josh jumps on the mic for mini golf wins, guest ideas, and our plan to make conversations easier to join.

• picking happiness and resolve without resolutions
• Christmas lights ritual and the teen years creeping in
• working Christmas Day in full Santa mode
• Boxing Day family dynamics and rare group photos
• quiet New Year shaped by sensory needs
• Josh joins for school holidays and mini golf
• building a simple two‑mic setup for guests
• wish list of friends and family to invite
• teasing a two‑year plan and a quirky song pick

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Ever felt like the holidays are happening to you rather than for you? We crack open the season with a candid, funny, and sometimes sweary walk through everything that makes December jagged: the work party that overshares, the shopping centre where manners vanish, and the gift economy that creates more clutter than connection. It’s a Grinch‑level honesty check, but with a soft spot for small fixes that actually make life better.

We start at the office party, where booze meets blurry boundaries and one sleazy moment can sour an entire night. From there, we move to the shops: elbows out, patience thin, and car parks that turn into obstacle courses. The stories are raw and real, but they point to simple shifts—lists instead of wandering, off‑peak runs, click‑and‑collect, and a calm drive that models better behaviour for the kids watching from the back seat.

The heart of the episode lands on rethinking gifts and family. If most adults already buy what they need, why keep exchanging items that gather dust? We champion experience gifts, donations in someone’s name, and tighter circles where presence matters more than presents. Family time gets easier when we set time limits, skip the baited arguments, and pick traditions that suit the people we are now. And yes, we talk about how years in retail can turn carols into noise—and how curating your own soundtrack can bring the joy back.

Come for the rant, stay for the relief. If you want a season with fewer headaches and more meaning, this one’s for you. Hit follow, share it with the mate who hates Mariah, and leave a review with your most overrated holiday ritual—we might feature it in the New Year special.

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The mic warms up fast with holiday chaos, sharp humour, and a plan for two more shows before the year winds down. We jump from a country car show with family—airbrushed villains, chocolate strawberries, and easy laughs—to a brutal barbed wire main event where experience, timing, and trust turn danger into a story you can feel in your ribs. There’s no glory-mongering, just blunt respect for the toughest competitor in the room and the strange pride of still lacing up near 48 while the crowd roars.

The heartbeat shifts to home as Josh hits orientation, walks across a grade-six stage, and pockets a courage award. That small ceremony carries more weight than it seems, because courage threads through everything here: the will to referee another wild night, the patience to plan a Christmas special that might misbehave, and the backbone to confront a music industry that treats loyalty like a luxury tax. We put numbers on the table—Anthrax at Festival Hall at $180 versus Foo Fighters in a stadium starting at $99—and ask the only question that matters: what’s fair, and who decides? Between venue capacity, promoter games, and dynamic pricing, the math doesn’t add up for fans who’ve kept the flame alive for decades.

So we draw a line. No GoFundMe, no gifts, no guilt. Love the records, skip the show, and keep your dignity when the price tag feels like an insult. We close with a grin and a track that nails the mood—If You’re Gonna Be Dumb, You Gotta Be Tough—because resilience is the only encore that never gets old. If you’re into honest stories from the ring, real talk about live music value, and the kind of dad pride that sneaks up on you, press play, subscribe, and tell a mate. And if you’ve been priced out of a show you love, drop your take—what’s your breaking point?