What, you expect me to write on Christmas eve? I don’t get a day off to celebrate the day before the fake birthday of a guy who may, or may not, have actually existed?
Here, you want a post? I hate people who trample other people for Holiday sales at various shit-filled stores. Can you imagine taking your final breath on the floor of a Walmart while hundreds of fat-asses in sweatpants callously walk across your dying body so they can get a fucking Xbox for their shitty, meth-addicted, Juggalo children at a 20% discount?
So there’s no post today but it’s not my fault. Last night was my office Christmas party and I’m surprised I’m even alive. I’m pretty sure I got someone pregnant last night but I don’t know if it was Janet from accounting or Keith the IT guy. Let’s just sum up the night with a list of things I witnessed with my own eyes… a woman throwing up into her own lap, a tow truck, a small electrical fire, 5 breasts, 1 penis (not including my own), my boss’s daughter forcing me to watch her strip totally nude in the bathroom, shoplifting, public urination, a man eat an entire XL pizza in under 7 minutes and a dog wearing pants.
Also, none of that is true, except the boss’s daughter stripping in the bathroom, that really happened but it was 12 years ago. Honestly, I was just too tired last night to write. My office party is Friday but I work with 3 people so the chance of crazy antics is low. I am sorry.
Merry Christmas, can someone turn up the air conditioning?
I realize the NASCAR season eats up a lot of your time and now that Cheaters is on twice a day it’s hard find a free moment but maybe it’s time to put your snowman and candy canes away. Either that or just burn your house down. Just burn it to the ground and walk away.
I recently read that a house with Christmas lights dangling from its sad gutters in August has a 36% chance of containing a fully-clothed corpse sitting in a chair and is four times more likely to have at least one bathtub that is used as a toilet. I think it was in Newsweek or possibly The Economist.
I’m going to try and write something real tomorrow but these fucking holidays are killing me! I’m so popular that EVERYONE wants me at their party. I never get a free moment to just sit and watch People’s Court anymore. I’m also moving in a couple weeks, so that’s sucking my ass too.
To make it up to you, I will share my favorite song about Canada.
It’s 2:43 am and I simply have nothing to complain about right now. I just got home from a night of drinks with old friends and for once I’m in a good mood. I guess Listy is getting soft, and for this I apologize.
I hope you all have a great Holiday, thanks for listening to my bullshit. Except Guy Fieri, I hope his Christmas sucks major ass and is not at all “money.”
Sorry, no real post today. I spent the weekend trying to get ready for Christmas (and an impending move), so I’m using the remainder of my free time to pray for death. Here’s a little Christmas tip, never go to Target. In fact, never go anywhere. Never leave your house.
Geez God, what the hell? Did you have to kill Eartha Kitt on Christmas? Is it because she sang about your arch-rival Santa Claus in the amazing “Santa Baby”? Man, take a day off from all the killing and enjoy your son’s birthday.
Eartha Kitt was my favorite Catwoman, hands down and “Santa Baby” is in my top 10 Christmas songs of all time. Eartha Kitt was awesome. She passed away from colon cancer in her Connecticut home at age 81.
If there’s a war on Christmas why do I start seeing Christmas related shit in stores around September 1st? You can’t avoid Christmas in this country, it’s shoved up your Santa hole every two seconds. The “war on Christmas” is just so silly.
Guess what Bill and Toby, there are millions of non-Christians in America and if they would rather say “happy holidays” then who cares? Go change each other’s poopy diapers you big babies.
So to all my readers, I would like to wish you a safe and happy HOLIDAY. To Bill O’Reilly and his girlfriend Toby Keith, Merry Fucking Christmas you turds!
