Sorry, Redneck wine glass, your time here is done.
I’m Klassy. With a capital K, y’all.
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.
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.
Last Saturday at this time, I was prepping for what was to be the first family party in my new house, and also the greatest Cinco de Mayo party of all time. Before I go any further, I should explain that my family parties are not typical tedious family parties. Nope. I am the youngest of four children, and was tortured and taught to drink and swear by three rowdy older brothers. So in my family, parties involve a lot of whiskey, drunken singing, and, inevitably, someone sets something on fire. Actually, that’s what they USED to involve.
At 5pm last Saturday, things were looking promising. Everyone was on time for once, the Coronitas were flowing, taco remnants were flying, chips were being tossed into mouths from across the room. Then… 9pm came. I looked around, and suddenly, one brother was asleep on the couch, one brother was playing on my laptop (hopefully not porn, because gross), and the other brother was sitting in a stupor at the dining room table discussing the latest items on clearance at Walgreens with his wife. I took this all in, and then entered a dream-like trance, in which everyone was frozen in time, except for me, and I was running around in a sombrero, shaking maracas in their faces (and no, that’s not a euphemism for my boobs, because gross) and yelling at them in rapid Spanish (because I like to be ethnic holiday appropriate during my dream sequences), asking what the hell happened to them. This is not the family I know! You’re TIRED?!?! There is no tired in Cinco de Mayo! Upon exiting my weird Telemundo dream-like trance, I found everyone packing to go home. By 10pm, I was vacuuming, pulling taco meat out of a sink drain, slightly intoxicated, and disappointed.
This getting old thing’s a real pain in the ass.
I did, however, manage to have some fun with my nieces and nephew. I told them to give me sexy, and this is what I got:
Yeah… Maybe we’ve still got it.