The Gift Of The Scratchi

Once upon a time, in a little village, just south southwest of Santa’s Workshop, in the North Pole, there lived an older couple. This couple was each on their third marriage, although that doesn’t have anything to do with anything…I’m just making conversation. Now the couple didn’t have much money. The husband had started a potato washing business that wasn’t as profitable as it was expected to be, and the wife hadn’t been to work since she was diagnosed with elephantiasis in her left leg. Needless to say, Christmas was around the corner and the couple had no money to buy each other presents.

The husband thought, “Well it’s Christmas…I have to get my wife something!”

So he decided to rummage through the couch cushions and look for loose coins. He looked and looked and looked, and finally found 22 pennies, 3 nickels, one of them minted in the year 1978…which really didn’t have anything to do with anything…just making an observation…2 dimes, and 2 quarters for a grand total of $1.07.  The husband looked at the coins in his hand and sighed. What could he possibly buy with this? A pack of gum? A toothbrush?

Meanwhile in another part of the house, the wife was looking under their bedroom mattress. All year she would stash a dollar here and a dollar there as a little nest egg for Christmas. The problem was that all year she would also borrow a dollar here and a dollar there with the intention of paying it back, yet she never would. Currently all that resided in the mattress Christmas nest was one dollar.  A single tear rolled down her cheek as she got a paper cut on the tip of her finger from grabbing that one little dollar bill.

“What can I do with this?” thought the wife. “Buy a pack of playing cards? A plastic kazoo? A band aid?”

Both the husband and the wife both felt a little dejected, a little depressed, and a little tipsy because both of them were drunks…nothing to do with this particular story, just throwing it out there for discussion.

The husband grabbed his coat and called to his wife that he was going for a walk.

“OK!” she called back. There was little chance she would join him due to her left leg being the size of a VW Bus thanks to the elephantiasis, so the husband had a few moments to himself to think.

So he did.

He thought and he walked, and walked and thought, until he stopped in front of a convenience store. He stood there for a moment as his breath billowed in front of his face from the cold brisk air. He could see the worry lines on his forehead mirrored in the window of the store. He could also see the beer case, because as explained earlier, he was a raging drunk. And lastly he could see the counter where the lottery tickets were advertised. In his pocket, his hand clasped on the coins and he headed into the store.

Come that Christmas morn as the husband and the wife gathered in front of their Christmas tree which made Charlie Brown’s look like a lush Evergreen, he took her hand, and patted her enormous leg and whispered,

“I love you. Merry Christmas.”

He pulled out the  scratch off lottery ticket he bought with the change and handed it to her. He also handed her one of the left over pennies that he didn’t spend. This was so she could rub off that mystery silver cover that hides the winning numbers from the naked eye.

She smiled, and rub the penny back and forth over the ticket, slowly and with determination, all the while biting her lower lip. She turned the ticket to her husband when she was done, and said,

“We won.”

“What?” asked the husband gasping for breath. “Really?”

“Yes,” she said with the biggest grin. “We won a free lottery ticket.”

“Merry Christmas,” said the husband.

Merry Christmas,” replied his wife and slipped the dollar she had found into his pants pocket.

This doesn’t really pertain to the story, but later they got snockered on eggnog…you know…just throwing it out there…for conversations sake…

Merry Christmas to all.

When You’re Sick Of Holiday Movies…

Have you had your fill of Rankin and Bass’ stop motion holiday classic; Rudolph the Frosty Grinch?

How many times have you watched It’s A Wonderful Miracle on 34th Griswald Lane?

Can’t stomach another viewing of “You’ll Shoot Your Eye Out Charlie Brown!”?

Well, I’m here to help. Here is a list of slightly non-Christmas-y that you can watch with the whole family.

(Warning: Don’t watch any of these with the whole family.)

Rubber

 Rubber is the charming story of Robert, an abondoned tire that has been left in the desert and then suddenly and inexplicably comes to life. As Robert  rolls around, he soon discovers that he possesses terrifying telepathic powers that give him the ability to destroy anything he wishes.

`

Zombie Ass: Toilet Of The Dead

 Megumi wrestles with the guilt of her bullied sister’s suicide while joining her friends on a journey deep into the woods, where they encounter the nefarious Dr. Tanaka, who conducts gruesome experiments on the living dead. Later, as Dr. Tanaka attempts to make Megumi and friends his latest test subjects, the desperate young woman uses the dual power of karate and flatulence in order to defeat her demented captor.

Nude Nuns With Big Guns

 Sister Sarah is abused, brainwashed and drugged into submission by a corrupt clergy who is in the business of selling drugs. On the verge of death, Sister Sarah receives a message from GOD telling her to take vengeance on all those who did her wrong. Armed with God’s will and an arsenal of big guns and little clothing, she seeks revenge on her former tormentors.

Grabbers

Strange doings are afoot on a small Irish island: the crew of a fishing boat disappears, whales start appearing dead on the shore, a local lobster-man catches a strange tentacled creature in his trap. Soon residents learn they must get very drunk to survive attacks by alien monsters who can’t tolerate a high blood alcohol level in their victims.

(Remember: I didn’t say any of these were good.)

Six Christmas Reindeer that Didn’t Make the Delivery Team

This is a piece that was written by my fellow Pauser, Chowderhead and myself…well to be honest it was about 90% Chowderhead and 10% myself.

The task of expediting billions of presents to mouthy brats around the globe in one night is a heaping pile of responsibility – one that requires a sharp, sober team of hoofed navigators to help carry it out. There’s only room for one drunken deviant on the parcel delivery team, and that’s Santa Claus; a morbidly obese shut-in operating under the delusion that wearing a belt and boots with red pajamas is more than a just a kinky homage to Hugh Hefner, it’s a fashion statement.

Assembling a dashing team of sleigh navigators has historically been no simple task – one that requires a formal tryout, which annually results in reject letters being handed out to dozens of four-legged, horn bearing hopefuls. Remember all those Reindeer games? These caribou take it seriously and have been training all their lives!

Now I know you’re familiar with Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, and that freak, Rudolph; but according to some loose media source there were 6 previously unknown potentials that narrowly made the cut.

(To be honest, they weren’t even close to making the cut.)

Flasher

Official scouting report notes indicated that this obscene creature couldn’t keep his reindeer gear tucked between his furry little thighs during the tryouts. A lewd compulsion to flash his candy cane and holly berries in front of festive front room windows not only kept him off the team, but also nearly landed him a two year stay on the pet offenders list.

Dahmer

Initially, his calm demeanor and ability to take orders earned him a spot on the flight crew team. However, his membership status was revoked shortly after scouts discovered his hidden cannibalistic tendencies. He didn’t last too long at tryout camp, and neither did his stable mate, Meaty.

Square Dancer

It was determined that this uncoordinated mess of a creature might potentially blow the cover so to speak. During the trial package drop, Square Dancer attempted to Doe See Doe with Flasher, producing unacceptable decibel levels up on the roof tops.

Grab your partner don’t be shy,

Eat some magic corn, then you’ll fly

Land on the roofop, dosey doe

Santa is in the house,

your ass is standing in the snow

 

Nixon

A soft spoken and charismatic leader-type at first glance. However, walking papers were issued after one scouting team official candidly discovered him editing Christmas Lists and the official package delivery route. The incident was later coined, KringleGate. For the full story, you can watch the movie, All The Reindeer’s Men starring The Elf that Wanted to be a Dentist and the cast of The Island of Misfit Toys.

Vomit

Suffers from motion sickness. Also didn’t look good for any publicity photo shoots, for Vomit always had about six air sickness bags hanging off of him…just in case.

Stupid

His offenses are too long to list. Fellow trial mates frequently complained of inappropriate blinker usage during practice flights, and Stupid fell of a roof during one trial run while attempting a chimney handstand. The incident resulted in a broken femur, insurance settlement dispute that has been ongoing since its occurrence. Officials would not release any further details or names of the scouts associated with Stupid’s official invitation, but it’s been rumored that Stupid maybe in the new Jackass movie.

Blitzed’n

This deer liked his beer, which affected his steer. His also liked his vodka, just like his poppa. You would usually find him in passed out in the gutter, with a hooker nicknamed, Nutter Butter.

Since we are talking alternative reindeer, did you know that when Rudolph throws a hissy fit because he is such a big celebrity, (sometimes they do that) that his cousin from Germany, Christoph sometimes fill in?

True fact.

Which Would Win In A Fight…Writing Or Child Birth?

Writing for me is hard.

It’s really hard.

Writing to me, is like spending days, weeks, months, even years in labor. Pushing and prodding, sweating and cursing, groaning and straining and out pops the top of the head…but only the top of the head. You look at the head and think,

‘That’s a nice looking head, but what could be better about the head? I mean, I like the shape and the little wispy hairs, but..is that a dent on the side? What are those red blotches? Can I make those red blotches look better? I can’t. I don’t know what would make those red blotches look better! Dammit! Is there too much hair going on up here? Is there too little? I hate this baby! No I love this baby, I will never give up on it!’

So you push some more, and it hurts…oh boy does it hurt! But you produce a whole head! You look down between your legs and marvel at the head you have just produced. You see two bright blue sparkling shiny eyes and a nice button nose…wait…my baby’s nose is really a button! That’s not good. We can fix that in the next draft, no worries. OK, what else here? Oh yes, cute little mouth with some toothless gums…that works…and a right ear and only a right ear…

What the hell? Where is the other ear?! I just spent three weeks on this baby and it only has one ear! How can I fix this? I can’t! I just squeezed out this whole head and it’s missing an ear! There is no repairing this! I can’t just shove this head back into my cranial vagina…it’s already hanging out there! I even made the mistake of telling a few friends that I was thinking about birthing something! I remember telling the neighbor yesterday,

‘Yeah, I decided to birth a short story. I don’t know, maybe if it goes well I might turn it into a novella or possibly a novel. We will see. There a couple of publishing nurses I was thinking about shopping it around too, but you know it’s so hard nowadays with all the HMO Blogs and the Affordable Health Care Self-Publishing Services nowadays…the completion is fierce. Dr. Mom says I should go for it. She says I have always had the writing cervix for it, so I figure…what the hell? How hard could it be?’

So now I’m hunched over, cradling this one ear baby as I try find some inspiration. Do you know how hard it is to waddle around with a one ear baby dangling between your legs? Starbucks won’t serve you in this condition.

I tried.

“Um yes…I would like a Mocha Machismo Skinny Carmel Al Pacino Latte, Extra Froth, Double Lid, please.”

“Sorry, we only serve Hipsters, Accomplished Writers, and Moms here.”

“Really?! Since when?”

“Do you know you have a one eared baby hanging between your legs?”

“Yes! I guess I’ll go to Café McDonalds instead.”

“Good, and you might want to be careful! You’re banging that baby against your leg every time you take a step…on its good ear.”

Writing sucks.

It’s also hard to sleep with a one eared baby between your legs. It’s annoying. The thing is always crying,

‘Feed me! Finish me! Fix my ear! Change my sentence structure, its dirty! Where’s my Starbucks?’

I can’t get you Starbucks, its only for clever people, clever people that can sit down and bang out a 92,000 word novel in two hours and its sequel over tea with the Queen of England while inking the movie rights to Steven Lucas del Toro.

I can’t even fix your ear. I’ve tried. I tried hot glue, duct tape, cookie batter…

Then it comes down to the point of:

Do you just live with this baby head, ignoring it for the rest of your life?

Or

Do you take a Samurai sword to it, aborting it into the digital trash can, never to see the light of day again?

Or

Do you keep pushing, hoping the rest of it comes out alright? You know, two arms, two legs, a feasible plot line, a cute little belly button romance perhaps…or at least an “innie.”

(“Outies” are so in your face.)

Or

Do you just put a gigantic hat over it, covering it up, and call it, “taking a break.”

If you could see all the gigantic hats I have in my drafts folder, you would call me a whore.

More often than not I want take this one eared baby between my legs and punch it in the face and scream at it,

“I hate you one eared baby! Things were going to well! Why did you have to have only have one ear?! Do you think Steven King ever produces a one eared baby? No! How about Tom Clancy? I think not! What about J.R.R. Tokien? I’m pretty sure all the Hobbits had two ears and that extra ‘R’ in his name stood for Radical!”

Whoever invented writing hates puppies.

So why do it? Why write? Why bother?

I don’t know. These thoughts just get inside my head and I feel the need to put them on paper regardless if they are good, or bad, or rambling…or stupid. Does everyone else in the blogisphere actually really enjoy doing it? Am I the only one that hates it? I would rather sit on the couch and eat jalapeño Cheetos and watch really bad reality television than write…but I know my brain will turn to mush.

Well…mushier.

Mush potatoes.

McMush potatoes.

Now to be totally honest, there was no point to this except I’m stuck at a point in my story called, “Fatty McFat Fat Fat” and I needed to take a break. I decided to continue the birthing process, be it good or bad, or if it has one ear or three…so thank you for listening for a minute.

I feel better.

I’m going to waddle out of here now, please stop staring at the baby head between my legs.

The Robots And The Writer

The Robots just suddenly arrived.

They landed on Earth in droves, tall…about 8 or 9 feet in height, dirty metallic bodies, 3 wheeled tank like contraptions on their legs for movement, 3 tentacle-like arms with 6 tentacle-like appendages and on each one, claw like hands and fingers.

They came and they conquered. They conquered in a mere 72 hours.

The entire world in only 72 hours.

After they conquered and killed all the leaders of the world, they kind of left everyone else alone.

Sort of.

The robots made everyone stay inside their dwellings whether it be a fancy million dollar home, an apartment complex, or  a hobo’s cardboard box. It had been about two weeks of the house arrest.

Twice  food rations were left on the doorstep. Apparently the Robots thought our diet consisted of nothing but Spaghetti-o’s. TV was cut down to one channel that just played the same five movies over and over; A Christmas Story, Groundhog Day, Porky’s 3, Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, and Casino. No one could make heads or tails of the selections or whether their was a theme or message to them. Some thought it might be a some secret symbol of the robots intent. Radio was down to one frequency, 104.1 FM. This station only played Frank Sinatra, but luckily it was his whole catalog and not just five select songs like the TV.

The internet, shut down.

After pretty much everyone in the world could quote Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure from start to finish, an announcement came over the TV and Radio:

“Greetings, people of Planet 279. You will be hearing this broadcast in your native language since you choose to complicate your race with such nonsense as separate languages. Tomorrow will begin your sorting. I will assume, you 279ings do not know what a sorting is, so I will explain. Each one of you will be individually interviewed on your worth to this planet and to us, your new masters. If your skills are deemed worthy, you will live to serve us. If your skills are deemed inadequate, you will be killed on the spot. We have already eradicated Rappers, Weather Men, Fruit Snack Packers, Walmart Customer Service Employees, Mark Zuckerburg, and Network TV Executives.   One of our kind will be knocking on your door sometime between 8 am and 5 pm to begin your evaluation. That reminds me, we need to add all cable installers to the inadequate list. Do not try to run. Do not try to resist. Do not try to fight. Do try to cooperate. Do try to answer the questions truthfully. And if you are deemed unworthy, do try to die quickly and without crying. That is all.”

And then Casino started playing on the TV again.

I was a novelist. I don’t know what Robots would want a novelist for…especially based on their taste of movies, but I couldn’t give up hope. There had to be a place for someone with my skill set for them. I didn’t have to write novels, I could write about anything…be a reporter, keep records, or something. My youngest daughter, who was 6, pulled on my pants.

“Daddy, I’m scared!” she said with big teary eyes.

“Oh,” I said as I brushed her long blonde bangs out of her eyes and kissed her on the forehead. “Don’t be. Daddy will be okay.”

“But Daddy,” she responded, tears running down her cheeks. “Who will pack the Fruit Snacks now?”

I gave her a hug and said, “I don’t know, honey. I don’t know.”

—–

Eight AM came quickly the next day, and you could see the robots lining up along the suburban street. The had enough robots for one to stand outside each and every door, and at precisely 8, a unison single knock hit the aluminum doors, followed by a metallic warning;

“You have 30 seconds to answer your doors. 30, 29, 28, 27, 26….”

I opened the door. The faceless machine looked at me, and it pushed me aside as it bent it’s large frame down to fit through the opening. Once inside it said,

“Are you Planet 279 inhabitant also known as Frank Baum?”

“I am, and it’s called Earth, not Planet 279,” I responded weakly.

“What you know of as ‘Earth’ is no more. You are now an inhabitant of Planet 279. If you are deemed worthy of service you will be given a new name. Your new name will be 279.0943783749894590834590349.”

“Wow, I don’t know if I could remember all of that,” I said a little worried.

The robot responded, “It will be branded to your forehead. No worries.”

“Oh, great.”

The robot pulled out a clipboard. “Please answer these questions, briefly and completely or you will be eradicated. Please answer the questions truthfully or you will be eradicated. I will be monitoring your heart rate and your brain wave patterns. You will be recorded. Let us begin. For the official record, what is your Planet 279 name?”

“My Earth name or the bar code you just gave me?” I asked.

“You have not earned your worthiness, therefor you currently do not have your official citizenship of our planet. Your ‘Earth’ name please.”

“My name is Frank Baum.”

The Robot checked something off on it’s clipboard. “This is just for show by the way, it seems to make you Planet 279-ers feel more at ease. What is your current occupation?”

“I’m a novelist. I write books.”

The Robot put down the clipboard and raised what looked like a big scary laser gun.

“What is that for?!” I screamed.

“Eradication,” the robot replied.

“Why?! For being a novelist?! What the hell? Do you Robots not read? Or think that the people who will survive this won’t want to read?”

“You will be eradicated because all of the books have all ready been written,” the robot replied coldly.

“What?!” I laughed. “How can that be?!”

“Our writers have written all the books there ever will be, every subject has been written about. There is not a story that hasn’t been written that we already don’t have a book for.” The Robot raised it’s gun to my head.

“Wait!” I yelled. “How can you be so sure? What if I come up with a story that hasn’t been written yet. Then you have to keep me to write it for you.”

The Robot said and did nothing for a moment. “I will download all the books into my database. If you think you can come up with a story that I don’t have a book for, then you may live.”

The Robot raised one of it’s arms and shook for 30 seconds and then said, “Ready.”

“Ok,” I thought a moment. I had to come up with something incredibly wild and out there. “Do you have a book about an octopus with 6 dog’s heads that falls in love with a squirrel after terrorizing the citizens of Alabama?”

The Robot holds up a Kindle and says, ‘Yes.” On the Kindle is story entitled, ‘Bang The Squirrel Slowly.’

“I’ll be damned!” I said as the Robot raised his gun again. “Wait! Do you have a story about an octopus with 7 dog’s heads that falls in love with a squirrel after terrorizing the citizens of Japan?”

The Robot once again holds up the Kindle and displays: ‘Bang The Squirrel Slowly II: A 7 dog headed octopus falls for the orginal squirrels Japanese half sister.’

The robot raises it’s gun again. “It is futile. All books have been written except for 5. You will be eradicated.”

“Wait? What?” I stammer. “All but five? Originally you said all books have been written. Now your saying five haven’t. What five?”

The Robot lowers it’s gun. “The sacred five. They have been turned into movies. We show only the scared five on television.”

A dumb look has to cross my face. “Are you saying Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure is one of the sacred five?”

“Yes.”

“And there is no novel form of the movie?”

“Yes, only a screenplay. ”

I scratched my head, “Well then I’m your man to do that!”

The Robot raises his gun and fires. The laser hits me square in the chest knocking me back. I fall as I feel the burning of my heart and lungs inside my chest. I see the Robot standing over me. It bends over to my face. I can barely see it’s head as my eyes darken with death. I hear the robot say,

“We have already spared Steven King for that.”

~Fin~

—–

Editor’s Note:

I awoke from a horrible dream drenched in sweat and drool the other night. Of the dream I don’t remember, I only remember the echoing of these words as I arose from REM state, “We have already spared Steven King for that.”

Thus was the inspiration for that stupid story.

🙂

Emptying The Drafts Folder

I know it’s hard to believe that some ideas on this blog stay in the drafts folder.

It may look like I hit publish on everything I write regardless of:

content

quality

comedic value

or grammatical errors…

…but truth be told, I do reject some ideas that don’t seem to be going anywhere.

Not all ideas that don’t seem to be going anywhere, mind you…just some.

So, for your viewing pleasure, here are some of the posts that never made it to the light of the internet:

Obviously written around Christmas time. The Batman part came easy due to the parody song…but then…no other Super Heroes have Christmas parody songs! What’s up with that? Who decided that only Batman was going to get a Christmas parody song and no one else?! What about Spider-man? Doesn’t he deserve a Christmas parody song? I think he does…mostly becaise I could have finished more of this post if he did:

In Line At A Target With Super Heroes And Villains, After Christmas

Hello! This is Bob Mathewson from Channel 28 News. Today we are at the local Target where the Super Heroes and Super Villains of the world are in line to return some their Christmas presents.

So let’s work our way through the line and see if we can get any of them to show us what they are returning and why.

First I see Batman and it’s quite obvious what he is returning. Batman has a whole shopping cart filled with deodorants, in all shapes, sizes, and brands. Batman do you care to comment on why you’re returning all of these deodorants?

Batman: Frankly, yes! Yes I would! It’s just a parody song, people! Just a stupid take on Jingle Bells! I don’t smell! You don’t think with all of the super cool gadgets that Morgan Freeman invented for me, that he didn’t think of a built in roll on deodorant for the bat suit? Come on, people! Use your heads! Every freaking year! It’s not funny anymore!

Mathewson: I see where that would get old, yes. I see your young ward, Robin is behind you pushing a shopping cart filled with throat lozenges…

Batman: Also not funny. I need to disguise my voice people! You don’t need to know who I am! And if you are going to send me throat lozenges…ha ha…not! I don’t like cherry!

Mathewson: Fair enough. Moving on. Oh look, it’s Spider-Man. Spider-Man, what are you returning today?

Spider-Man:

—–

This one had potential to keep going, but I think the joke would have gotten old way before the post wrapped up. Plus with the last business listed, it was going places it probably should not be going:

Bad Business Combinations

Strip Club/Karaoke Bar

Tax Preperation Service/Funeral Home

Fish Market/Gynecologist

—–

This is a prime example of the premise being way funnier then any execution. I think this would have been one long post of puns that very quickly would have become predictable:

Trying To Get Directions On The Worst Named Streets Ever

“Um, excuse me…do you know how to get to Boner Lane?”

“It’s pronounced Booner Lane.”

—–

This one was funnier in my head. You know the Christmas song, ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’? I pictured a bunch of Angels running around singing the word, Hark! Only the word, Hark! Picture it. It’s funny, but it does not translate to paper:

Hark!

…the herald angels sing …

Hark!

Hark!

—–

This is truth written right here. I didn’t finish this post because I didn’t want to sound like a gigantic bah-humbug. I just think we can do better in this celebration song:

The Most Uncomfortable Song In The World

I now submit to you, the most uncomfortable song in the world, unless you are under the age of eight:

Happy Birthday

I think as a nation, we need a new Birthday song. No one truly likes this song. The next time you sing this song to a stranger or loved one, look at their face.

Are they enjoying it?

No, their face is all scrunched up, in a fake, tight-lipped, forced smile, pretending to enjoy this pre-blow-out-the-candles-and-finally-eat-some-damn-cake tradition.

And the song itself so repetitive. Who wrote this thing?

“OK, OK, so far all I got is: Happy Birthday to you…what should be the next line? Wait I got it, I’ll just keep repeating that, and then say the person’s name to help break it up…and then…crap, just say Happy Birthday again in case they forgot what we were singing about.”

“What if you don’t know there name?”

“Ummm, I don’t know. Just uncomfortably mumble something I guess.”

—–

Another combination post. I didn’t finish it because in order to get the jokes, you have to know who the Super Heroes are, and I got too lazy to explain and google images:

Bad Super Hero Team Ups

Superman and Good Luck Bear

Edward Scissorhands and Bubble Boy

Magneto and Iron Man

—–

This…I admit…is just a big, unfunny, mess. Enjoy!

The Emoticons Put On A Play

Scene I Act I

🙂      :o)      :c)

Scene I Act II

😀      😀     😦

Scene I Act III

:@      >:O     :-O

Scene II Act I

>;)

Scene II Act II

}:)     o/\o

Scene II Act III

|;-)     😥     :-###..

Scene III Act I

:’-(      😥     :’-)     :’)

Scene III Act II

<:-|

The End

The After Christmas Drinking Game + Bonus Cheese Rant

The After Christmas Drinking Game

Take A Drink…

…each time your kids tell you that they are bored even though they just got a bunch of new stuff from Santa Claus

…for each creative presentation of the left over Christmas ham for the next three lunch and dinners

…for each store the wife or girlfriend wants to hit to get next year’s Christmas decorations at 75% off, even though you will pack those away someplace and forget you bought them

…for every person that asks you, “So, how was your Christmas?”

…every time you have to vacuum up fallen needles from the Christmas tree as it slowly sheds itself to death in your living room

…for each fruit cake you throw away

…for each gift you find later that was hidden so well that it never made it under the Christmas tree

…for every time someone says, “This Christmas was pretty good, but next Christmas let’s…”

…for every Christmas present you didn’t really want and you re-gift it to someone else

…for every re-gift you receive

…for every time someone asks you why you weren’t at so and so’s Christmas party, when in fact the reason is you were never invited in the first place

—for every time Grandpa passes out in the lounge chair and you fear that he is actually dead

—–

Now forget all that drinking nonsense, because what I was really wondering is if all the cheese flavors of the world have been discovered. Do we have every possible cheese taste unearthed, or is there new cheese sensations yet to be discovered out there?

How do you invent a cheese flavor anyway?

I don’t know.

I really want to invent a new cheese flavor. I don’t know how to make cheese, but that’s what Google is for, right?

Maybe something smokey, or baconey, or cheeseburgerey…cheese that tastes like a cheeseburger…and then when you add the cheeseburger cheese to a cheeseburger, it tastes like a double cheeseburger.

I’ll work on it some more…

Christmas Reflections 2012

As Christmas is over and wrapping paper and scattered toys are littered all over the floor, I turn on Alvin and the Chipmunks 3 to induce TV comas upon the children. This allows me to quietly reflect on this Christmas 2012:

1) I realize that I did not plan for any dinner on Christmas and with the stores being closed my choices are: 1) Chinese a la A Christmas Story or B) International House of Pancakes. IHOP wins as it does every year, for I forget about dinner every year.

2) No matter how much you clean up those little ties that bind the toys in their cardboard packaging, you will eventually step on a stray one with your bare feet.

3) The best, most expensive  Christmas gift you bestowed upon your children ends up not being their favorite.

4) Looking at the tree, now bare of presents and half leaning on it’s side from when the dog ran into it, while running from the children’s screams of delight, all I can think is: Damn, un-decorating it is worse than decorating it.

5) I wonder if Hanukkah is cheaper to celebrate…

6) Is a law that at least two Christmas ball ornaments must break a year, one by shattering and one by the top wire part coming loose?

7) Pumpkin explodes as a taste sensation at Halloween, yet Eggnog and Fruitcake have such mixed reviews during Christmas…

8) I really need to invent a retractable Christmas light system for houses, where with a press of the switch they flip back into the house for concealment until next year.

9) Any board game purchased will have at least two pieces missing by the end of the day.

10) Grandma and/or Grandpa get more inappropriate with each passing year.

Goodbye Christmas 2012, considering you were never suppose to happen in the first place. I guess it’s good I went ahead and spent money on my loved ones and didn’t bet on the Mayans. Imagine explaining to the children why Santa never came due to the impending Apocalypse which never came to be…

Stupid Mayans.

Reblog Thursday Pt 21

Reblogging on Thursdays brings me inner peace and resolution. Enjoy a little head…a little head of David Dixon that is. Hint to really enjoying this site, remember it’s all in the eyes. The cartoon eyes.

Oh, this site is nothing but pictures so you have to click on the link above to enjoy…so no preview!

Bring Me the Head of David Dixon

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Grape Pondering

I can’t decide if I like the green grapes better…or the red…

Green is my favorite color…

But the red ones make better wine…

The green ones are juicer…

But the red ones are more flavorful…

If you put a red and a green one together in your mouth…

It doesn’t help with the debate at all…

They just kind of mush together…

In a grape orgy of non distinct grapey  juices…

Red grapes tastes better on a salad…

Green grapes tastes better in fruit cocktail…

I guess when it comes to grape debates…

The only clear cut loser…

Is raisins.