Sending thoughts of anti-depressants to everyone feeling sad, lonely, disappointed or generally pissed-off this Christmas. Everyone else doesn’t really need my good thoughts because those people are off getting snowmen to marry them, which is not recognized by any court of law and doesn’t make you any less of a whore for sleeping with the dude that night. Snowmen aren’t parsons or sea captains. They aren’t even fucking real.
A good rule of thumb is that if you’re reading this on Christmas you probably are the kind of person who needs my well wishes because otherwise you’d be busy toasting yule nuts or whatever the hell well-adjusted people do at Christmas. Like, if you know what the fuck “chestnuts” are and you own a tobaggan you’re probably not here. So Merry Christmas to the rest of us. The tired, the broke, the sick, the people who probably have cancer in their finger and it keeps swelling like some kind of giant cancer pinata that’s going to explode and spread cancer everywhere because I’m pretty sure that’s how cancer works, the people who are Hindu who don’t understand why the golf range is closed, and those of us who would starve to death if Taco Cabana wasn’t open Christmas day.
Merry Christmas to the rest of us. I’ll be toasting you with my frozen margarita during Christmas dinner unless Taco Cabana doesn’t serve booze on Christmas in which case I will just scream.
UPDATE: Taco Cabana is NOT open on Christmas. Because they hate Jesus. And want us to starve to death.
Comment of the day: I wonder if the mormons have considered a referendum on snow/human marriage. They totally need to get on that. Also, speaking of fucked up christmas songs, whaddup with that little drummer boy? You know that Mary is all, “Hello, I have an infant! I already have to sleep in a barn where it is noisy and smells like cow dung. I really need some kid in here beating a drum? What the hell!” ~ The Wife