We should have Roto-Rooter on speed-dial

In my family, a holiday is not complete until something gets broken. Preferably, something plumbing related.
Sure, there is always the talk of the burnt rolls, (grandma does that on purpose,now), the fruit-cake (Uncle Heintz actually LIKES the stuff) and lighting a fire under Santa's ass on Christmas Eve, but to me, nothing says holiday fun like a backed up sink.
For many, many, MANY years, our holiday was spent at the dear grandparents house. Possibly the smallest house, EVER, but, we managed to all wedge ourselves in there.
Her sink was notorious for plugging up beyond repair. I think, basically, it saw us all coming and just gave up the ghost immediately. No matter how we tried to baby it along, not using the disposal, or anything, that sink would clog. One year, Uncle Pebble Beach showed up (DK, better name? Uncle golf god?) and, seeing that we were in sink hell, took up our huge turkey, and washed it IN THE SHOWER. (He didn't care, he didn't have to eat it.). I couldn't quite get past the fact that the turkey shared the same shower as everyone else, Including Uncle B, who though sweet, can be rather, mmm, pungent in the mornings.
Then my Mom, Aunt Tuna, hijacked Christmas for her very own. So we go to her house, now, and watch her lips thin to the point of dissapearing in anger when the family curse follows. One memorable year, I brought the Villiage Idiot with me, and, in true idiot form, he tried to fix it. Without a bucket. Dirty, grody water ALL OVER the floor. I've never seen my mom's lips completely gone so quickly. Luckily, we can laugh about it, now. But then? He was almost sacrificed to the plumbing gods. (Maybe I should have let her.)
So, will I ever volunteer to have Christmas, or Thanksgiving in my wee domicile? Eh. Maybe. (but my Mom has firm control over it, now, and I'd have to pry it from her cold, dead, fingers). But say I did manage that. I'd have a plumber on speed-dial. Or maybe, locked in a closet. . .