Tag Archives: Christmas

He Sees You When You’re Peeking…


Aright, so I am one of those people who should just be a cat, because I swear to God my curiousity is going to kill me one of these days. That and I hate surprises. Do you get where I’m going with this yet?

YES! OK? I PEEKED IN  THE GIANT SHINY BAG THAT WAS MARKED WITH MY NAME ON IT.

I can explain.

So on Wednesday

No. I must go further back.

When I was 6 or 7, (I’m sorry, I don’t remember the exact year because it was long long ago) I remember that at Christmas time, McDonald’s was selling stuffed Muppet Babies. I begged and begged my mom to buy me a Kermie, because he was just so cute and he handled Miss Piggy’s advances so well. So a few weeks before Christmas, I sequestered myself in my parent’s bedroom and dug through the closet, checking to see if a stuffed Kermit just for me resided therein. I found him and was completely thrilled beyond belief. Sadly, he ended up being a Christmas present for my cousin, and I have been jaded ever since. I suppose that should have been a lesson to me NOT to go poking around for presents.

Now we may come back to the future.

On Wednesday, when I arrived home from work in the wee hour of morning, I was pleasantly surprised to see a ginormous shiny gift bag sitting in front of our completely natural fiber-optic tree. I snuck over in the dark and was surprised to find that said bag was addressed to me. I say surprised, because my Rockstar has never found it necessary to buy me a gift for any reason since we have been… entangled.

Anyhoo, I tried to forget about it. I went to bed and didn’t dream of giant shiny gift bags, but in the morning, after my Rockstar went to work, the magical gift bag was calling out to me, whispering, “Sparklebumps, just one little peek! You know you want to…. It won’t hurt anything to look. Openmeopenmeopenme!”

I said to that bag, “NO! You cannot compel me!”

Just kidding.

I said to myself, “Self, I shall ONLY peek into the top of the bag.” My self didn’t listen.

But in my defense, the tape was not sticking on the wrapping paper.

So as I peered into the depths of the giant bag, I saw nothing.

Except a shiny-ly wrapped present that was coming unwrapped.

Let me ask you something.

Would YOU be able to resist?

Yeah. Exactly.

And so I said to myself, “Self, we will just stick our finger under the flap of paper that didn’t stick and see what we can see.”

My self really doesn’t listen to me very well.

We saw nothing, my self and I. Except a brown box that had little black writing on it.

Of course I had to see what the writing said. And so I just said, “Fuck it.” and opened the bag up wide and took the present out.

The man who has never bought me a gift spent $500+ on a bass guitar amp head so that I may plug in my beauteous purpley bass and rock out.

I don’t know what to say.

Except that the frickin’ tape didn’t hold very well when I put it back in the bag.

He knew I peeked.

Oops.

But he must really love me.

 

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Filed under Christmas, Humor, Life, Love, music, Uncategorized

A Thought (I’m not sure which number it is)


It seems that all you bloggy people are people who DO stuff, as there have been very few hits on my blog today. I suppose you are hanging out with family and getting fat on Christmas cookies…. And you thought you all could relate to me. Pshhhh. 😉 Have good Christmases, my Lovelys.

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Where Santa Came From


So, I got to wondering yesterday about where Santa came from. I mean, everybody has to have a back story, right? This is my theory…

I believe Santa was one of the top angels in charge along with Lucifer. Santa and Luci were like, really close, and one day Lucifer was like, “Yo, Santa! Did you ever notice how this God dude just thinks He’s the shit, and we have to listen to everything He says? What does He think He is, anyway? The general manager of Heaven? I’m not getting paid enough to worship His power-hungry ass 24/7. I’m just as cool as he is, and better looking too. What d’ya say we blow this popsicle stand and find some of our OWN subjects. There’s like, this whole world down there with people just waiting to do bad stuff. We can go get all them.”

Santa thought about it, and since he was kinda weak, he shrugged and said, “OK, I guess that sounds better than just fuckin’ around here all day. Living in perfection gets old after awhile. ”

So off they went, covorting on earth until God decided enough was enough. God snapped his fingers and BAM. There Santa and Lucifer were standing in His presence.

“What do you think you two are doing?!” God thundered. “I made this world and I’m in charge. You think you had it rough flying around all day having nothing to do other than praise Me? I’ll show you what rough is, you little punks. Lucifer, I always knew you were a bad seed, I just didn’t want to believe it. You wanted power? Well, here you go. You can have whatever little fuckers on earth that don’t appreciate my general Awesomeness. All you gotta do is turn ’em to the dark side. And since you decided to be such a prick, I’m gonna let you live in a burning lake of fire for all eternity. Oh, and one more thing. NO MORE WINGS!”

God turned and was about to curse Santa with being Lucifer’s right hand man, and Santa panicked. He didn’t want to spend ALL of eternity in a lake of fire. So he sputtered and pointed at Lucifer and said, “It was all him, God! He made me do it! It wasn’t my idea.”

God narrowed his eyes at Santa and said, “You know what? I believe it. You are wayyy too weak and simple-minded to have gone against him. So you know what you get to do? You get the job of delivering presents on Jesus’ birthday to all the good kids on earth. I won’t make you live in the Firey Lake, but you are hereby banished to the North Pole. I can’t get anything to grow there, and there’s all these little happy people that live there called elves. I think being forced to be jolly for eternity is Hell enough.” God ran his fingers through his beard and thought for a minute. “I suppose if I take your wings away, you’re not going to have any way to deliver presents. But if I let you keep them, there’s no assurance that this won’t happen again. So, I guess I’m going to have to give you some flying reindeer. Oh, and once you get to the North Pole, you’re gonna be old. It wouldn’t look right if a hot young dude brought presents to kids.”

So Lucifer went to Hell, and Santa went to the North Pole.

Once he got there, he was surrounded by elves, which he found out were just midget orphans that nobody wanted. He decided he would adopt them, as long as they earned their keep, and since he had all those presents to make, he put them to work.

After a few Christmases, Santa was getting pretty horny, so he went back to visit God.

“God, I know I sinned and all, but I’m really frickin’ horny, and you DID say it wasn’t good for man to be alone. Soooo, I was just wondering if maybe you could , ya know, hook me up with a chic or something? Oh, and I adopted all these midget kids, and they kinda need a mom.” He added that last part just to look good.

God thought about it, and then said, “Aright, What the Hell. There’s this little place in Nevada that’s got chics that will do you for money. If you go there and pick one out, I’ll make it so she comes to live with you.”

So Santa went down to the Bunny Ranch, and found this chic who wasn’t super hot, but she was really super-duper nice, and she couldn’t have kids, so she ended up as a whore because there was nothing to be responsible for. Santa paid her, ‘cuz he wanted to try her out first, and she was AMAZING in bed. He went back to God and told Him he found a girl.

God brought Daisy (that was her hooker name) up to Heaven and sat her down. He said, “OK, Daisy. You can’t have kids. I made it that way because I knew this dumbshit was going to fuck up.” He waved his hand at Santa and rolled his eyes. “You’re a really sweet girl, and you know you shouldn’t be fuckin’ around at the Bunny Ranch. So, since I know you don’t like it there anyway, you get to go live with this guy. The downfall is you’re gonna look old, so the elves don’t think Santa is your sugar daddy. But you get to live forever and have a bunch of midget kids, which is what you really want anyway.”

Daisy was thrilled at the prospect of having kids to take care of (because she had a mothering instinct) so her and Santa got married and off they went. Daisy took care of the elves, but Santa realized God had made her so motherly, she treated HIM like a kid too, so anytime Santa was horny, he would yell, “Ho! Ho!Ho!” to remind Daisy that she had, in fact, been a ho, and a damn good one too, which was why he picked her.

Santa has grown resigned to the idea of flying around the world every Christmas Eve.

The End

 

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A Perfect Christmas Story


So, I am much to tired today to write anything witty at this point, so instead, I will tell you what my Christmas would be like if I was not who I turned out to be and life was the way I used to imagine I wanted it to be.

On Christmas Eve, my five boys (their names are Gavin, Riggs, Joey, Andy, and Westley)  would get all dressed up in their dinosaur and Xmen jammies and we would get situated in front of the TV and watch It’s A Wonderful Life while eating Christmas cookies and other assorted bad-for-you Christmas foods. My boys would grumble and say, “Mom! Why can’t we watch Home Alone instead?!” and I would respond, “Because Life is wonderful, Honeys, and you need to realize that. You’ll appreciate this movie someday.”

When the movie got to the end where Jimmy Stewart rushes home to his family, my eyes would well up with tears and my very handsome husband would grab my hand and hold it discreetly, so our boys wouldn’t say, “EWWWW! Dad, gross!” After the movie ended, the boys would jump up, excited at the prospect of Santa, and we would set out some cookies (Oreos) and milk, and a cherry- flavored cigar for him.

Each child would be allowed to open just ONE present, even though they would beg to open them all. They would take many minutes shaking each one and trying to decide which to open.

I’d then herd the boys off to bed and read them How the Grinch Stole Christmas (because Dr. Seuss is awesome), and then kiss their heads and tell them to go to sleep.

My perfect husband and I would then proceed to have awesome sex- the really naughty kind.

The next morning, my boys would come bouncing on our bed, crying, “Wake up! It’s Christmas! Presentspresentspresents!!!!” My beautiful husband and I would drag ourselves out of bed and to the living room, where our upside-down tree was. I would then don my pink Santa hat and pass out the presents. Besides for toys, each son would receive one book, which he would be thrilled about because I have instilled the love of books into my children.

My hubby would hand me a gift, also a book, and just the right one, because he had taken the time to find out what I have and haven’t read, and would have bought the newest book that came out that I had refused to buy because of the new sticker price. I would give him a gift, too- a much-wanted guitar or tickets to an awesome concert, and sex coupons, of course, which we would have to hide quickly when the boys said, “Mom, what are those?”

After the present opening, there would be piles of wrapping paper EVERYWHERE, and we would sit and watch our children play with their newly begotten treasures. There would be no family Christmas to have to rush to, because both of our families have decided it was smarter to celebrate on different days, to leave this day for us.

Fairy tales are fun, aren’t they?

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A Wishlist for Santa


Dear Santa,

I know it’s only the beginning of November, but I figured I had better get my letter to you early so you can get a head start.

I realize there is not much that you can do as far as prescription pills since you aren’t a doctor, so please I would like it if you could just supply me with a year’s worth of brandy, vodka, whiskey, etc. to help me cope with being me. Peach-flavored it preferred.

I would ask for the 2.6 million dollar Victoria’s Secret Fantasy bra, but I’m assuming it’s about 4 cup sizes too small, so anything that you can find in the store that’s a DDD would be great. Also, their smelly lotions are fabulous, but please none that smell of vanilla.

A 1967 Shelby Mustang GT 500 is at the top of my list, but I’ve been asking for that for several years and you seem to keep overlooking it. I realize this is probably just an oversight, so I will ask for it once again. I would like a black one with white racing stripes, since a purple one would NOT be the original color, and I prefer to keep it in it’s original condition.

You know that I am not picky on shoes, so any fabulous, brightly-colored or animal-print, 5inch+ heels would be greatly appreciated. While we are on the subject, a closet big enough to hold them all would be quite beneficial.

I would appreciate a beating for my Rockstar, since he has not yet found it necessary to answer my non-proposal. Please be sure not to leave any marks on him, because I would not want to be accused of abuse, and bruising would marr his perfectly-freckled face.

I would like one or two or five babies, preferably of assorted ethnicity. (because I hate to knock my own race, but white people be having some UGLY babies!) I would like it if they are mostly boys, because girls are just a pain in the ass. Also, a million or so dollars would be great with which to care for them.

Books. This is, I suppose, not really a necessity, since it has become tradition for my brother to gift me with an $85 gift card for Half-Priced Books, but if you have any spare room in your sleigh, you know what to do.

I was going to ask for french fries, but chances are they would be soggy before you get them to me, so I will just ask for an industial-sized fryer, and also one of those big freezers, so I can keep all the bags of Mcdonald’s french fries you will bring me frozen.

I suppose that is all for this year, because I know it will cost you a bundle to keep me satisfied. Remember to thank Mrs. Clause for keeping you fat, because I don’t plan on baking you any cookies this year.

Love, Sparklebumps

P.S. I forgot one thing. I’ve been asking my Rockstar for a stripper pole for the last few years, but he pretends he doesn’t hear me. If you can find the time, they are only $99 at Spencer Gifts.

P.P.S. If you can get Chris Meloni for me, I would squish my boobies against you for 30 seconds. Maybe 45.

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