festive greetings/you n yours

Before I begin, I am planning on drinking on Friday eve as is per 12.23.anyyear custom. If you are local and willing, please RSVP if you'd be so inclined as to join.

pyginablanket@gmail.com

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You know that website link that's frolicking around the internet, all "fuck christmas" and "reasons why people hate Christmas" and etc? I'm too lazy to look it up, so just nod your head and smile.

Anyways, the website is apparently run by Brown Dog during the day from our Dell, while we're at work finalizing important projects reading blogs.

Scene: House. 12.22.05. Lunchtime.


MASSACRE!

I do not keep a tidy LH-on-Prairie homestead. But this is a bit much even for pathetic slobs like us.

Additionally, BD seems to have a particular hatred for BandAids recently.

Re: the lump to your left. There are these little woodland-y type Santa Claus figures/dolls, very Germanic and given to people like me by their crotchety great-aunts who cannot fathom the fact that we are adult females that do not own a single Christmas decoration???? And lo and behold they just got a free Holiday Gift from Reader's Digest????

They are sometimes charming. They are sometimes EXTREMELY FRIGHTENING.


Oh. My God.

Without the robe and the styrofoam padding and the hat, this is Hellraiser-nightmare-worthy.

It's okay, BD. I never liked no dolls, neither; esp. scary-ass Santa dolls with fuzzy boot-things. On wooden skis. Or whatever. And I really appreciate the detail-finding camera that points that the wine console thingy hasn't been dusted since the Clinton administration.

DOGSASTER, I BEG OF YOU: For the love of Germanic Santa, even if you cannot control your unweildy hatred of all things Christ-like/-mas; stop wrecking my shit. You came along, and now this blog is nothing more than the chronicles of... well... dogs wrecking shit. You are getting desparate, and I won't back down - you ate the chair-rail molding on the walls, BD. How many bones must one girl provide until such ceaseless barrage of unholy teeth finally ends?

I admit - I squealed in true girl fright/laughed heartily at the poor, scary Santa-being, who looks like he is committing suicide via a rustic Germanic noose/rope from his sack of handmade presents for good girls and boys. We're keeping him, because now I can honestly say I own a Christmas decoration I enjoy.