Ahhh, it's Christmas! That time of year when we all get together to share our joy and happiness and hatred of other family members who aren't in the room. When carolers are ignored, and snow is shoveled by your children instead of you, and warm cocoa is filled with marshmallows and alcohol. Yes, Christmas: when Santa and Jesus bareknuckle box to see who can win our hearts and minds.
Santa has been on a winning streak for the last 60 years or so, but this year's fight is in sunny Orlando, FL, so my money's on Jesus.
Yes, kind reader, now that Thanksgiving is long gone and the shopping season is underway, we can all finally snuggle up in a blanket and watch reruns of Christmas specials where Charlie Brown befriends a sad little tree, the Grinch grows a heart three sizes bigger, and Bing Crosby fellates . . . what? What do you mean it's not December yet? It has to be! I've been watching Christmas commercials for the last two weeks! I went to the mall yesterday, and it was packed with obese middle-aged women shouting at each other and clogging up every aisle of every damn store!
You say Thanksgiving is this Thursday? You're kidding me. Wow. No wonder I couldn't remember much about this year's festivities. I just kind of assumed I drank heavily through the whole thing.
So you mean I've gotten all my Christmas shopping done a month and a half early? That Chuck Norris workout machine I bought my mom is going to be hard to keep hidden for that long. Mom can sniff out Chuck Norris memorabilia like a police dog. One time she broke into our neighbors' house just because they flipped past a rerun of "Walker: Texas Ranger". She won't actually use the workout machine, but she'll love the huge picture of Chuck Norris on the box.
And what about my dad's present? They'll probably come out with, like, three new versions of the fleshlight before Christmas, and I'll be stuck gifting him an older model. I swear to you, fleshlight company, if you release the "just like sticking it in her ear" model next month, I'm going to be pissed.
My brother's present is the most troubling. It's perishable. There's no way it'll stay fresh for a month and a half. Sigh. I guess four weeks from now I'm just going to have to take a crap in another paper bag. What a hassle.
Maybe I can reuse the same bag.
This is just terrible! I've had all my decorations up for the past week! Everyone in the neighborhood is going to think I'm one of those annoying people who put up their lights after Halloween! I hate those filthy people. Any decent person knows that you have to wait until December 1 to put up lights and the tree and the "Hannukah is for cowards" neon sign.
I'm going back to my room, reader, and I'm not coming out until the ground is covered in snow and people in bars wear Santa hats. Or until someone buys me a drink. My phone number is 1-612-PAUL-LIKES-BOOZE. Or, alternatively, 1-612-PAUL-LIKES-BOOBS.
Shut up! The numbers will work if you try hard enough.
