Tag Archives: Christmas

Post-Holiday Wood Tales

In case you guys missed it a couple weeks ago, I still work in a lumber yard. Haven’t branched out yet. Get it? Branched? Like on a tree? Lumber? Get it? Never mind. Anyway, now that the holidays are coming to a close, and the mistletoe has been stored away in my basement in hopes that maybe Christmas of 2014 will bring someone with whom I can make out with underneath it, it’s time for the long awaited (Ok, maybe not long. Nor awaited, really. Whatever.) post-holiday edition of… You guessed it: Top Ten Quotes From A Lumber Yard.

10. “Look, someone left their nuts sitting out there on the counter. Who does that?”
People leaving their nuts all willy-nilly like that. It’s just unsanitary is what it is.

9. “You probably did it with my dad.”
Ummm… Can you describe your dad? It’s entirely possible.

8. “He’s my snuggle buddy.”
The men I work with are surprisingly sensitive.

7. “He touched me inappropriately, so I kicked him.”
Nobody tell Corporate about this!

6. “I used to work for Jews, we never had to do this!”
Said while putting up the Christmas tree from Hell. It just made me laugh.

5. “It’s like ‘hide the pickle in the Christmas tree’.”
Apparently some of my coworkers have some questionable holiday traditions.

4. “I can do that without even having to spread ’em!”

3. “We haven’t even gotten into touching the meat yet.”
Yes, the holidays are a time for family, giving, and meat touching.

2. “I only like to touch things once, and then I put it away.”
Good philosophy, actually.

And, my new favorite:
1. Put your finger here, see if it can take it!”
Yeah… I got nothin’.

This concludes this week’s Top Ten Quotes From A Lumber Yard. Stay tuned for the 2014 edition. I’m hoping next year brings less talk of touching meat.

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Posted by on December 29, 2013 in Humor


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Regifting Done Right. Yee Haw.

Sorry, Redneck wine glass, your time here is done.


I’m Klassy. With a capital K, y’all.

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Posted by on December 28, 2013 in Humor


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Maids A-Milking Partridges?

Merry Christmas to all, from Paula In The Country! I hope everyone was good this year and got all they wished for from that fat dude in the red suit. No, not my Uncle Jack in his famous red leisure suit… I’m talking about Santa. Apparently I was a naughty girl this year, because I didn’t have anything under my tree this morning other than a broken ball. Not a testicle. That’d be weird. You knew what I meant. Anyway, on this most joyous of holidays, I’m here to discuss what’s on all of our minds, besides testicles under my tree, of course… And that is ‘The Twelve Days Of Christmas’. Is it just me, or is this the weirdest Christmas song of all time? If my true love gave me any of that shit, my true love would get my true boot up his true ass. Let’s break this down, shall we?

First day of Christmas: A Partridge In A Pear Tree

First of all, I’m not sure exactly what a partridge looks like, but I’m assuming it’s a flying bird. So how exactly are we keeping this bird in the pear tree? Is the bird permanently affixed to the tree? I don’t understand. Also, I don’t do well with plants, so unless True Love is also sending a gardener, screw your tree.

Second day of Christmas: Two Turtle Doves

I like Turtles. I also like Dove chocolate. Unless that’s what we’re talking about here, try again, True Love.

Third day of Christmas: Three French Hens

Seriously, True Love. What’s with the birds? This is six birds now, dude. Although, I’m intrigued at the French part. If the hens can make me croissants and teach me how to say, “Do you really just let your armpit hair grow like that?” if I ever travel to France, they can stay.

Fourth Day Of Christmas: Four Calling Birds

Again with the birds. And these fuckers just seem like they’d be noisy.

Fifth Day Of Christmas: Five Golden Rings

HALLELUJAH, TRUE LOVE! I can get on board with this one. Unless the rings come with five Smeagols. Because that dude’s just freaky. Still not sure this makes up for four fuckin’ days of birds, but it’s a start.

Sixth Day Of Christmas: Six Geese A-Laying

That’s all I need, giant geese shitting and laying eggs. This Christmas sucks.

Seventh Day Of Christmas: Seven Swans A-Swimming

Let me get this straight, True Love, I’ve got geese shitting everywhere, hens speaking French, a partridge twist-tied to a tree, and you thought I also needed SEVEN FUCKING SWANS?!?! Unless they also come with a pool in which I can drown you, your seven swans can suck it.

Eighth Day Of Christmas: Eight Maids A-Milking

I’m cool with maids. But what they hell are they milking? If they come anywhere near my tits, someone’s getting roundhouse kicked.

Ninth Day Of Christmas: Nine Ladies Dancing

Good, the maids have someone to milk now. I don’t know where all these chicks are sleeping, though. Broads better earn their keep.

Tenth Day Of Christmas: Ten Lords A-Leaping

These Lords better be hot, and single, and good at taking orders. They also better just calm down with all that leaping.They may spill my drink.

Eleventh Day Of Christmas: Eleven Pipers Piping

Ok, this is out of hand now. I’ve got birds up the ass, bitches milking and dancing, dudes leaping, and now also piping? Apparently, True Love, you don’t want me to sleep. Dick.

Twelfth Day Of Christmas: Twelve Drummers Drumming

I hope they come with a stockpile of drumsticks, because those sonsabitches are going up a lot of asses.


See? Weird. Apparently my true love has a bird and noise obsession.

Fa la la la la… Asshole.




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Posted by on December 25, 2013 in Humor


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What The Hell’s A Schnitzel With Noodles Anyway?

I have a confession to make. I’m a Christmas asshole.

Don’t get me wrong here, it’s my favorite time of the year. (That totally rhymed, and I didn’t even mean it to. Look at me, all poetic and shit. Moving along now. Tangent. Sorry.) I love the entire feel of the season; The warmth, love, family, Christmas movies, claymation Rudolph, cookies, eggnog, getting drunk and fat, yada yada yada. But every year I get Christmas cards from friends, some even handmade with love, and the result is a tinge of warmth followed by overwhelming Christmas guilt. Like, ‘Holy shit this person went out of their way to pick out a card, slap a stamp on it, trek out in the freezing cold to mail it, all for me, and here I sit, licking cookie crumbs off a computer keyboard’ guilt. Not that I really lick crumbs off a keyboard. OK, maybe I just did. Whatever. Don’t judge me. Anyhoo… As horrible as they make me feel as a person, I applaud these friends. The whole Christmas card deal seems like something I should get on board with. I mean, I’m a nice person. I like to think I go out of my way for people, more so than most. But the thought of collecting addresses, having to write heartfelt greetings with my poor, crippled carpal-tunnel-stricken hand (insert pathetic violin music here), purchasing stamps (Like, do people really do that anymore?) is, frankly, exhausting just to think about. So not only am I a Christmas asshole, I am a very lazy Christmas asshole.

So, to everyone who’s sent me a Christmas card this year, I’d like to apologize for my Christmas assholiness, and offer you this super creepy Santa:


Ho. Ho. Effin’ Ho.


Posted by on December 17, 2013 in Humor


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Santa, You’re Gonna Need A Bigger Bag

Earlier today, someone asked me what I want for Christmas. Most people could probably answer this question without too much thought, right? But tonight, for some reason, I’m still struggling with this. I mean, not that I don’t want stuff. I like stuff just as much as the next girl. Especially boots. It may be a borderline boot fetish. But I guess when it comes right down to it, the stuff I REALLY want isn’t as easy to obtain as heading to the nearest Kohl’s. Nope. I’m a little more high maintenance than that, I’m afraid.

First off, I’d like to never have to shave my legs again. Sure, it’s not so bad having a nice set of fur-covered legs to keep me warm in these frigid Chicago temperatures, but unfortunately it makes it difficult to pick up men at the local gym while wearing capris or shorts. I suppose I could possibly attract a Wookiee or a Sasquatch or something, but they don’t seem like they’d be very good dinner companions. I’d like my body hair in general taken care of, really. It’d be a hell of a time saver. I’ll even take care of my own increasingly abundant nose hair. I feel this is a decent compromise.

Secondly, I’d like a person. Not just any person. A go-to person, A best friend. One person I feel like I can completely be myself with. Someone I can tell anything to, with whom I can completely let down my guard, who will tolerate my vodka and snack habit, who will take my insecure and overemotional moments and love me for them just as much as my moments of joy, love, and hilarity. Someone who’ll hug me and tell me everything will be ok, and make me believe it. If he’ll spoon me and kiss me goodnight on the forehead, that’d be pretty cool, too. Also, rub my feet. And take out the garbage. Not at the same time, though. I don’t want any various garbage juices to somehow end up on my feet. That’d be gross.

Third, (and this is a biggie, Santa, so listen up) I’d like my brother to not have to fight cancer any more. Because it’s stupid. In addition, although I’d probably never say this to their faces, because I’m the bratty little sister, and it’s hard to talk to them when they’re giving me wedgies and swirlies and such, I want to bonk ALL of my big brothers on the head and make them realize how badly I wish they’d all take better care of themselves, and recognize that I don’t want to ever have to be here without them. Sure, sometimes they’re a huge pain in the ass, especially when they get into stupid fights over The Walking Dead and Rock Of Ages, but they are mine, and without them, I’m not quite sure what I’d do. Idiots. I’m probably going to get beat up for this at the next family gathering.

I’d like to be able to talk to my dad again. In a few days he’ll have been gone four years. Man, I can’t believe it’s been that long. You know, sometimes I talk to him at night, but he never says anything back, which is ok because I’m used to rambling with no response, kinda like I’m doing right now, but it’d be cool if he’d give me a, “Good Lord, shut it already and go to sleep.” or something. That’d probably totally scare the shit out of me in the middle of the night, though. It’s weird, after all this time, I still remember exactly what his voice sounded like. I miss that. I guess you never really realize how much you miss someone’s voice like that until they’re gone.

I’d like the Monchichi I had as a child, and also my Strawberry Shortcake doll that blew strawberry-scented kisses. because I loved them; And even though I’m supposed to be mature and shit, I like toys.

I want time to slow the hell down. Although 38 is pretty kickass, what with how much more confident and happy I am than I was 10 years ago, I’m totally not digging the random inch-long hairs I find growing out of my forehead, nor how I get up and walk into the other room and completely forget why I’m there.

And last, but definitely not least, I want to be able to eat cupcakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and never gain any weight. In fact, the more cupcakes I eat, the skinnier I get. Whoa. Whoa. Wait… Whoa.

I totally just blew my own mind. I have to stop now.

But seriously, Santa… I hope you wrote this shit down, fat man.

Sorry I called you fat. I didn’t mean it. You’re very svelte for an older man. Yup. I’m just gonna go now.






Posted by on December 11, 2013 in Humor, Life


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Black Friday Survival

I’m sure a lot of you (and by ‘a lot of you’, I mean ‘1 person who may read this’) lie awake at night thinking about me and how I manage to remain so calm during this hectic holiday season. Frankly, I don’t even know how I do it sometimes, amid the hustle and bustle, barrage of holiday parties, and overabundance of sugar, but somehow I manage to do so. Swimmingly, even (I just wanted to use the word ‘swimmingly’, because it makes me a little happy.). And, being the giver that I am, I figured I’d share my tips for surviving one of the most hectic days of the season: Black Friday. Pay attention, guys. This is pretty important stuff.

1. Stay in bed.

Don’t get elbowed in the face by a soccer mom for the last $8 mini food processor. Wear some holiday-themed jammies, too, because they’re way fun.


Whew. It’s hard being helpful. That took a lot out of me. I need an eggnog.




Posted by on December 1, 2013 in Humor


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