Happy Festivus!

4 thoughts on “Happy Festivus!”

  1. I’ve got lots of problems with you people!
    1.) If I hear Dominik the Donkey again, I may drive into oncoming traffic. The creator of that ridiculous song is a Double A-Hole. May he never rest in peace and instead have that crammed into his thick skull for all eternity.
    2.) To my turd children who are ALREADY complaining that this is going to be the WORST Christmas ever because they know they are not getting everything on their list. Well here is a type, Turd, don’t be a freaking TURD for 2 months straight before Christmas.
    3.) To Treetop Jr. (our G.D. Elf) GO HOME ALREADY! and take your damn suitcase full of elf clothes with you!
    4.) To all the stupid jerks in our fitbit challenge. OWN UP TO THE FACT THAT YOU CHEAT! You can all Kiss my ASS, Kiss her ass and Kiss your own ASS! Oh, and Happy Hanukkah.

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  2. My SAD ain’t so bad this year, but I got some grievous air to spew.
    1) Ok, you’re in the left turn lane and you realize you shoulda took a right. You’re about to get the arrow and I can see you starting your Marcel Marseaux negotiations with the three lanes of traffic to your right. Suck it up. This arrow has the staying power of an octogenarian on rhino horn powder. Come on! You’ve dealt with bigger mistakes in your life, as evidenced by the SAD array of stick figures in your back window. Take the left, do a U-ee and end it.
    2) Hey, Mr. Snowblower, the snow you blow in the freshly-plowed street stays snow, or haven’t you mastered object permanence?
    3) Dear New Neighbor, yes, my dog does have shitting privileges in your yard. The last owner’s bitch all but deeded it to him. If you want to revoke it, alpha up on his 110 pound ass. He’s the one dropping a deuce; not me. And calm your man boobs. I’ll pick up his firm, non-maloderous dukey long before you step foot in the yard. I’m on that shit.
    4) That’s right $12 hair cutters, I ain’t been to one of you in over six months. Sure, I bear responsibility in not knowing how to describe my hair cut wishes to you, but that is an awkward conversation. I don’t know all the nomenclature, and to the extent I do it sounds too much like describing a sex act to a prostitute, I’m guessing. So now I have longer bangs than Natty Bumpo and my family thinks I operate a ferris wheel at the carnival.

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