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YES...I'm going to hell......
Money's tight. We'll be painting rocks this year.
C'mon kids, we're headed to an egg hunt at Mr. Polanski's house.
Jesus has risen, and thanks to Viagra, so has gramps.
And I found this silver egg in mommy's bedside table!
Instead of the Easter Bunny's eggs, this year we used the Octomom's.
Hey, look at my crotch-less bunny costume!
I scooped out these Cadbury Eggs and loaded them with my own "special filling."
Dad, come meet my Jewish boyfriend.
Hey kids, don't forget to check for eggs beneath the Hitler surfboard!
Come on. You're not too old to give your grandpa an Easter foot rub.
The Easter basket grass is almost as fake as me and your mommy's love.
That's a beautiful Easter dress, Mr. Seacrest.
Sorry kids. The dog caught and maimed the bunny.
Well, it looks like we're calling for takeout. Granddad had his way with the ham again this year.
Next year let's hide the eggs AFTER they're out of the chicken.
Say goodbye to Aunt Millie just in case. She goes before that new Obama death panel tomorrow.
Great hiding place! I never would've thought to look for eggs beneath Nana's breast folds.
It's only two o'clock in the afternoon and the Captain Morgan's already gone.
