[Also available on YouTube, of course]
I just don't understand Christmas, I guess. I like getting my holiday rectal exam, and sending letterbomb Christmas cards, and decorating my penis with tinsel. But I'm still not happy.
You know newbie, you're the only person I know besides the drunk Santa outside the five and dime who can take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem. Of all the Lucy, Sally and Peppermint Patties in the world, you are by far the most pathetic. You're pathetic, you're just pathetic. You're embarassingly pathetic. You're beyond pathetic, you're a pathetic's pathetic.
How about some pity sex, Laverne?
You know I shacked up with a man before I was married. His name was Jesus.
Don't you know sarcasm when you hear it? Call me?
All I'm sayin' baby is that you wearin all those layers is tough on me. You with your sweater and your thermals and your jacket, hiding all your goodies and your whatnots.
But I like urinating my name in snow! Almost as much as I like touching myself.
The holidays are great! Remember the time we got jacked up on morphine and jammed all night?
I wasn't invited.
Well, what about the year we all sat around the Christmas tree and beatboxed?
I wasn't invited that time, either.
I've been looking for you, JD! I went a little overboard on the eggnog, and now my hands don't work. So could you please write me a prescription?
I love the holidays. Except of course the year when I was 9 and my parents got me a Nancy Reagan "Just Say No" poster, and I asked what I was saying no to, and they said "legwarmers, a five-figure job and sex with minorities", oh and over dinner my mother yelled at my father because she learned that in college he played Santa at the local mall and ended up in the back of giftwrapping department with a ho-ho-ho, which then drove him to go a little overboard on the eggnog, which…I can't feel my legs.
Hey newbie, if a tree falls in a forest, and no one is around to hear it, are you still a dumbass?
Yes. Wait, no! No! Oh, good grief.
Now listen up, baby. This is the music I wrote for the Christmas party.
Speaking of Christmas, what did you get me this year? Well Turk?
Now listen up, baby. This is the music I wrote you for Christmas.
Time to deck the halls with your incompetence.
Let me think, where would be a good place for this nice tree of yours. How about up your ass?
DJ, your twig went limp.
I can't hang my shiny balls on that! Dude, high five!
This might just take attention away from my failures as a human. Compared to that tree I'm huge and powerful.
Buckle up, Charlize. I'll tell you what Christmas is all about. Lights, please. Here's the deal, newbie. You can stuff your stockings with shiny toys from now until you grow some testicles. But until that stocking is filled with friendship, loyalty, love and devotion well it's just plum empty. And no you can't purchase those things at Laura Ashleigh and no you can't win them in the Redbook Giveaway Extravaganza and gee, sorry if these aren't things that you can wind up and watch spin for eight hours. Let me make this exceptionally clear. Christmas is about love. You can't live without other people's love. Not during Christmas, not ever. So go spend that time with your friends and family, and if they laugh at you, laugh with them. And if they laugh at you again, hit em and go find some new friends. But for the love of god, Jesus, Mary, Joseph and his amazing technicolor dreamcoat, don't ever forget this newbie. You have to give love to get love, so start giving. Now. That's what Christmas is all about, there, newbie.
Maybe it's not about how big your tree is, but who you choose to sit around the tree with. Maybe I don't care that I just ended a sentence with a preposition.
And God, you're invited too. Ooo boy, imagine if God actually showed up. The Lord. The Almighty. The Big Guy..or, Girl Upstairs. The Head Honcho. The Storm Maker. The Big Cheese. I like cheese. Not that stuff in a can. But give me a cheese log rolled in nuts and I am in Heaven.
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