Rudolph has an entire posse of genetic freaks backing him. Frosty....what the fuck does he do, exactly? A poinsettia greenhouse took the bitch out. You're weak, fatty. And you're song sucks. Rudolph will get me home safe at night. FLYING home, like DiCaprio in Wolf Of Wolf Street. Rudolph like a motherfucker.
I'm in a house where I'm the only person that thinks Christmas Vacation is a more enjoyable movie to watch on Christmas eve than a Christmas Story. At least I have beer to get me through this.
I'm watching Love Actually because most of these people have been in fandoms of mine and it's like a family reunion. Except that it's kind of depressing. And very long. So right now I'm Billy and Joe FTW. I'm old, and it's better to be one of them than Emma Thompson being rejected by fucking Snape who is lusting after a tight ass.
While my dad and I were wrapping presents we were drinking heavily and watching Die Hard. Good times.
Merry Christmas, all you idiots. Happy Hanukkah, too. And, Festivus, and general holiday wishes to all y'all knuckleheads that entertain me throughout the year. Ho ho ho! My favorite wrapping paper, still.
One of the lower Christmas' for me, mostly just apathy. I got a pair of slippers and a hand held cheese grater. I order one of those attachable bidets for my mom but Amazon won't deliver it until Tuesday. It could be life changing in the asshole cleaning department. We shall see. We are supposed to go to my mom's boyrfriend's daughter's house for dinner. I reall dont feel like going.
THOSE ARE A THING?!? *checks amazon* Oh fuck yeah!!! Now I just gotta explain to the wife why I want one. She doesn't understand logic, so her counter argument will be based on either or possibly both of these lines of reasoning: 1) I'm secretly gay since I want water shot at my asshole; 2) Clearly I do not know how to wipe properly since I want water shot at my asshole. Sometimes you just gotta take the hit to the ego and do it anyway. This might be one of those times...
Well if it's her idea then you're not gay so I'm told. I'm a little worried about quality as the highest scored bidet is only 33$. I feel like something washing your asshole should require more of an investment?
"Listen darling, you're going to be licking my asshole either way, so ask yourself if you want me to have used a bidet beforehand, or just pawed at it weakly with a tissue paper?"
A classy gent always gives his asscrack a credit card-swipe with a pine air freshener before hand. That shit the ladies lubed up like a hydraulic piston.
This Leah Remini docu-series on Scientology is fascinating, immensely entertaining, and angers me to the core. I really wish that at the end of the episode there was a "call to action," for lack of a me being able to think of a better term. Like a direction the filmmakers could point people like me who want to take (legal) steps to put a stop to Scientology. If there's a series on depression, at the end they give you the number for the suicide hotline like "hey by the way, if you take this shit seriously and wanna put a gun in your mouth, go here." I want a number to call, an address to send a letter or an E-mail, something I should do or write or say or donate toward in order to at least do something, anything, instead of sitting here while a cult ruins lives and reaps tax advantages.
It makes hundreds of millions of dollars selling an invisible product, run by an self-up-jumped Napoleon Complex who has all the charisma and magnetism of a Soviet apartment complex. Dispicable cult of blackmailing stalker fucktards. Piss on them.
Are we still on the George Michael subject? Are you planning on giving it away tomorrow or something?