Monday, December 28, 2009

Merry Christmas, go f*** yourself

Did everyone survive? Sort of?
Now the Christmas hangover begins, that heavy feeling in the middle of your chest that moans in disappointment "Now what?"
The kids say they are bored. BORED?! Do you know that Santa had to practically prostitute herself this year to put effin presents under the tree? Santa had to go begging cash from leaf-raking jobs and broke friends and relatives, not to mention that Santa had to drag her skinny ass to the bank to apply for a 90-day loan only to be rejected hours later because she doesn't have a credit card? I thought not being in debt up to my eyeballs was a good thing!
Not so.
So, kid, if you don't play with those godd*mn toys, Santa is putting them on ebay now to get back some of her dignity.
For what it's worth, Christmas morning was fun. I could hear the kids whispering (more like very loud hissing)and exclaiming over their stockings, the crinkling of candy cane wrappers, then, of course, the 5:15 a.m. announcement that Santa had, in fact, arrived.
Good times for a day or two, then the drama started. You know what I'm talking about, the drama where everybody has too much time on their hands and too much eggnog in their system. That's always fun. The drama this year surrounded our apparent attempt to "sabotage" an adult evening out because we could not find a suitable babysitter. That was the claim, that because we would not dump our kids off at:
1)their aging grandmother's house, complete with their 40-year-old mentally disabled uncle who screams in their faces and still tries to pick them up every two seconds as a means of controlling them
2)my parents who still both work full time (my father on the back of a f***ing log truck, and btw, he is almost 60) and have 7 grandchildren and do enough for us as it is, including watch the kids every day after school, come to their little concerts, events, etc., and still have 5 other grandchildren besides.

Yes, you caught us, we're just trying to make things difficult. How'd you guess?
WHO HAS THE F***ING TIME to think about this crap? I'm serious. Who actually has the guile and time to think about this and then the balls to make the claim that we're actually trying to create "trouble"? Are you effin kidding me? Who doesn't want to go out and have fun? But I'm not going to put more pressure on people who are already under enough pressure so that I can get my drink on.
Here's a word; class. Look it up. It's probably a foreign word to some people, especially the ones who fall asleep on their couch in the middle of major events 'cause they're too drunk or lazy to be a decent host.

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