Traditions and shit

This year we couldn’t take a real family vacation so we’re taking Hailey to see her cousins and Disney Land for a few days so I’ll be vaguely MIA starting tomorrow because every time I pull out my phone to get on the internet Victor will huff at me accusingly and so I’ll have to duck into the bathroom a lot to approve comments surreptitiously and then Victor will yell at me for drinking too much and I’ll be all “WELL MAYBE I HAVE A BLADDER INFECTION, ASSHOLE” and then he’ll insist that we go to the Disney emergency room to check it out because he won’t believe me and we’ll miss all the parades because I’m too busy peeing in a specimen cup all because my husband doesn’t understand the importance of social media.

But while I’m gone you can check out two things.  First off, this.  The comments on this post made me cry.  True story.

Secondly, a ton of people have asked if I’m making James Garfield Christmas cards again this year and the short answer is “sort of?”

A short summary for those of you new this year:   Last year I fell in love with the head of a stuffed Wild Boar which Victor refused to buy for me. I named him James Garfield.  Then James Garfield was threatened with dismemberment in a terrible emotional ransom attempt and Victor rescued him like some kinda goddamn American hero.  Then I sold James Garfield Christmas cards to make back the money we spent on him so Victor would stop glaring at me  every time he looked at James Garfield and so many people bought them that James Garfield made more than I did that month than I did, although he did inadvertently cause an international financial crisis which made a several Canadians inappropriately furious.  Quite a few of you have asked if I’m making James Garfield Christmas cards this year but I suck and I’m crazy behind on everything so I’m farming it out.  I suck.  But if you want to give out Christmas cards to your family with photos of the happiest, rescued dead boar in the world I totally have your back.  You can order shit here.

I also made a non-James Garfield blank holiday card that you can use to warn your coworkers and family that you’re not putting up with their crazy bullshit this year.  It’s my personal Christmas card but I thought I’d share because I’m generous that way.  You. Are. Welcome.

Special note to burglars:  I’ll be back Sunday but my house will be protected by my heavily-armed, entertainingly-unstable Bohemian father who pulls entrails out of dead things for a living.  This is what we have instead of an alarm.

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