Christmas songs are crap

Sii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-lent Ni-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ght.
Ho-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ly Ni-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-ght.

Kate and I were reminiscing about how Christmas songs these days are crap, and the only stipulation seems to be that you have to drag out each syllable for ~9 seconds. Except for the awesome rock medley, where they must have a drum machine going. I am a poor boy too PA RUM PA PUM PUM!!! [bff-bff-bff-BFF! bff-bff-bff-BFF!] ... 'TIS! the season to be jolly, FA LA LA LA LA! LA LA! LA! LA! So harsh it's great.

Tomorrow is "Christmas" for my immediate family (excepting my brother). I can guess what I'm getting! (I bought and wrapped the presents, after all. To Megan. Merry Christmas.)

My favourite Christmas image: Brent and Hank pulling at opposite ends of an aluminum Christmas tree à la tug-of-war (Brent wants to take it back home because it's his; Hank wants be the good samaritan and take it to the dump). As it is yanked in twain, Wanda gazes heavenward: "God bless us, every one." Yes indeedy.

Either that or I just wanted to say "twain."

All I can say is there had better be some darn epic Boxing Day Celebrations (which would take place on the 24th, naturally, with the 23rd being Christmas—or "X-mas" as [I'm guessing] the makers of certain comic book movies will likely soon advertise it as. An X-Men X-Mas. I'd better get credit when that movie comes out.)

It occurs to me that I haven't been drunk in a very very long time. I should remedy that.

I kind of have butterflies, well not so much butterflies as an awful gut-wrenching feeling of uneasiness and disappoinment. fa la la la la