Tuesday, August 9, 2011

I should have named this blog ants and Santa’s in the Russian mafia

Santa Claus was called AA Santa from 1997-2001 here in the U.S.A.

Wait….what? I get that I stopped believing in Santa Claus about 20 years ago, but WTF?! I didn’t think I was so far out of touch with the whole Santa situation to not know there was an alcoholic Santa running amok around the world. I’m sure that’s not what ‘AA Santa’ even means, but I don’t care. That’s what I’m saying it means, and it baffles me. I don’t remember hearing about an epidemic of puddles of vomit by fireplaces and really shitty gifts for those four years, well other than the ones that can be attributed to Daddy’s all day Christmas Eve drinking binges, which I’m sure weren’t limited to just those four years. You’d think people would have been more vocal about a drunken Santa roaming around on Christmas Eve, yelling “Ho Ho Ho!” to the hookers turning tricks on the corner and then giggling to himself as he pees off the side of the sleigh.  And you’d think that at some point, he would have passed out in someone’s home. Can you imagine little Timmy’s face in the morning as he races down the stairs only to see hard dose of reality in the form of a bare-assed Santa, crushing the Christmas tree and all the toys underneath it (he passed out while peeing on the tree because he thought he was outside peeing in a bush…because that's so much better, Santa.) I’m just saying don’t call him that unless it’s true people. That’s how rumors get started. By the way, if it is true, and any of you find that Santa has peed/puked on your carpet, suck it up and replace your carpet. There’s no way in Hell you’ll ever be able to get the smell of peppermint schnapps, broken hopes and dreams, and Christmas cheer out of it. And another question I have is why did it abruptly stop in 2001? My guess is rehab. And I imagine it looks a lot like the Dr. Pepper commercials with all of the fictional characters, but with more soul-crushing depression.

My mom had the international Santa Claus figures, so I’m aware that Santa is known by a lot of na--…..Mrs. Santa Claus??

I get that there was a Mrs. Claus, and logic would imply that she would be known as Mrs. Santa Claus….but this was a list of alternative names for the Santa Claus. Maybe we were referring to the idea of Santa Claus and not the actual person, meaning it doesn’t matter who delivered the presents, just so long as they were delivered- that person would be referred to as Santa Claus. Maybe the missus took over for Santa once he was in rehab so that no one missed out on Christmas; although I’m sure by this point everyone was a little gun shy about checking to see what was left under the Christmas tree and possibly the stockings that were hung with care. Waaaiitt a minute, the time of Mrs. Santa Claus overlapped with AA Santa for two years….these must have been the sexually confused, tranny Santa Claus years…oh God…I just got a mental image of Santa Clause with his junk tucked between his legs, drunkenly yelling “IT PUTS THE LOTION ON THE SKIN OR ELSE IT GETS THE HOSE AGAIN!!” at a some family’s golden retriever. Dogs don’t even use lotion, you douchemonger. It’s bad for their fur.

Okay, maybe it’s just something with the Americas….from 2001-2006, Mexico called him El Niño.
….I think you’re confused, y’all. Did you guys mean to name him after an irregular global weather pattern? You do understand that El Niño brings you destructively strong wind, hurricanes, and torrential rain, and the big, bearded guy in a red suit and, knowing you guys, a sombrero brings you gifts, good tidings and lots of Christmas cheer…or I’m sorry, “magia de la Navidad”. Or at least that’s what Google Translate tells me it is…I’m trying to speak your language here…help me to help you. But I digress…I understand how things can get lost in translation, but do you see how they’re not the same? Also, Santa is over 1600 years old and you have the nerve to call him “The Boy” or “The Child”? Waaaay to be respectful, you guys. I’m fairly certain that gets you put on the naughty list….enjoy your lumps of coal and hurricanes, Mexico.

So to recap: Between the U.S. and Mexico, we have an alcoholic, cross-dressing man-child drunkenly flying around once a year bringing your kids shit made by elves, which if we’re honest with ourselves, we know are being held against their will. Well played Americas.

On a completely related note: My brain hurts now.

Gentle Dentist and Ded Moroz

Some people should not be in advertising or be allowed to name things....specifically the people who decided to name a dentist office "Gentle Dentist". Do you guys really need to advertise that he's gentle? I get that some people are dentophobes and think that all dentists decided on the career just because they wanted to torure the shit out of people. I, for one, am not one of these people. Although I've never been particularly fond of them poking around in my mouth, I never said to myself, "Well he isn't very gentle at all" or "Wew, he inn't vewy 'entuh a' aw" because he had his medieval torture devices and arms up to his elbows crammed in my mouth. I've never thought of dentist as either being gentle or not gentle, but this stupid sign forced it upon me. Is this sign supposed to imply that other dentists who don't advertise that they're gentle will punch your teeth our of your mouth, kick your puppy, and push your grandma down and steal her Hoverround®? I mean....I wouldn't be okay with all of that, but I guess they would be covered because they never claimed that they were a "Gentle Dentist"...it just would have been nice to have some warning, like, maybe if they're sign said "Hardcore Dentist That Will Punch Your Teeth Out, Kick Your Puppy, and Push Grams Down and Steal her Hoverround®".

Is it weird that I can't stop giggling because now I've decided that all the other "Non-Gentle Dentists" are actually members of the Russian mafia. Although, I think having a "Non-Gentle Dentist" would be a selling point then because in Soviet Russia, teeth pull you. I know I'd probably want a dentist that kicks ass and takes names, and if the puppy and grandma are assaulted, it's no ones fault but theirs. You did this to yourself...this is the Russian mafia, grandma.

Actually, working off of this logic and combining with the lie I'm going to tell my children, Santa is also a dentist. I'm thinking that might be the most terrifying part for me, personally. Shit. I created this lie to screw with my kids, but now it's screwing with me....I'm fairly certain, my kids won't give a shit or won't believe me, and somehow I'll convince myself of this lie and spend many sleepless nights plagued by the fear of  Ded Moroz, D.D.S (Seriously, Russia? You're not helping your case, like at all. Could you have tried being a little less creepy about it? No? Oh right....you're Russia. You guys invented creepy).

Great. Now I've got the song "All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth"...sorry little Donnie Gardner, it ain't gonna happen. Santa's keeping your two front teeth and probably taking a couple more just for the hell of it as well as your Red Ryder Air Rifle. Merry Christmas to you, indeed...

Fucking exactly, y'all.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

I swear this won't become a blog about ants

I was going to post this last night, but I fell asleep...that or I slipped into a mini coma because of all the goddamn ant bites. I think it was the latter. I almost died, y'all!

Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. But only slightly.

Last night I went to my nephew's football practice, and Sarah, Tre, Breanna and I forgot to bring chairs. Mistake number 1. Mistake number 2 on my part was wearing shorts and flip flops. It was hot, and I didn't want to sweat balls. My bad. No matter where I stood, ants kept crawling all over me. When it first happened, I just brushed them off of me, trying my best not to curse and look like I was having a seizure. Normally I wouldn't care, but this was a "family event" and there were "kids around" and "parents that Sarah and Tre didn't know" and Brenna and I shouldn't "bring attention to ourselves". Or at least that's what Sarah said before we got there. Whatever. While normally I'm a glutton for punishment, when it comes to ants, I'm not. Fuck that. I decided it was a good idea to go sit on the track and watch Brandon's practice. It made sense...ants are in the grass, the track does not have grass, there won't be ants on the track, I will go stand on the track...A=B=C=A or whatever. Normally circular logic does not fail me, but last night it did. The ants followed me, y'all...they saw me walk away and were like, "There goes the asshole that keeps writing us letters and trying to steal our Nacho Cheese Dorito-y goodness...fire ants, roll out!" That or there were ants in the grass by the track, but I'm putting my money on the first scenario. Because ants are assholes like that. Anyway, so I'm sitting on the track in my safe little bubble of self-delusion that I won't get bit by ants while sitting on the track. WRONG! Not being content with just biting my feet, I found one little over achieving asshole going to town on my arm. And then it happened....let me just say I started getting bit in places that no one should ever be bit. I'm serious. I will never tease someone about looking like they have ants in their pants ever again. That shit is nothing to joke about.

Anyway, that's when I realized something about ants. First, one bites me for no reason as I'm mowing the lawn, I write it a letter. Second, a gang of them attack me as I'm about to get into the pool, I write them a letter. I tell them I don't appreciate their behavior. I politely ask them to stop (Edit: Okay, it wasn't very polite, but point is I told them to knock it off, and that I did not appreciate their advances). They ignore my requests and attack me last night, and to top it off, tried to go for the goods. All of this made me realize something that might help the rest of you out in the future...let my experience be a lesson to you all: Ants are the sexual predators of the insect world. I can hear them now, "She was just asking for it, wearing her flip flops and shorts...what did she expect us to do?". I expected you perverted little douche canoes to leave me alone. I mean, I wrote you guys letters...how much clearer does it get?

No means no, assholes.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

YAY!! Stream of consciousness post!!!

You guys knew it was coming. I knew it was coming. I was just shocked that it took me this long to get to writing a completely non-sensical post about nothing! Go me!!

....is sensical a word?

I just googled it. It's totally a word. Thanks, Google....you never let me down. Unless I'm trying to find my silverbacks. In which case, you are an evasive asshole. Fuck you, Google.

.Am I allowed to insult Google? Can they sue me for telling them to fuck off? Or are information ninjas going to attack when I least expect it....like when I'm sleeping? Wait, I would totally expect it then because I'd be unconcious and vulnerable and shit. Ninjas are also evasive assholes. Awesome. But still assholes.


I really have no idea what I want to write about....and I'm getting pretty delirious at this point, not that any of you could tell, I'm sure. I had a couple of ideas that I was thinking about writing....about...does that sentence work? Ah well, fuck it! It does now! I'm a writing trailblazer...making up my own word combinations and sentence structures and shit. I'm like the Faulkner of blogging. Ya know, without the Nobel Prize and being famous and whatnot. BFD. I've got punctuation and sentences that don't stretch on for pages, bitches.

What was I saying? Oh right, I had a couple of ideas that I was going to write about, but they would require me to remember the stories and make funny comments about them, and right now, that's too much for my brain to handle. So instead, I bring you this! A blog post about absolutely nothing!! Um...yeah. I'll be right back. I...am going to the store. Crap! I also need shampoo....this trip is taking longer and costing more money than anticipated and it hasn't even started yet.

Okay, I'm back. I realize I didn't need to tell you guys I was leaving. If hadn't said anything, y'all would have had no idea. I am also an evasive asshole.

Do you know what's a fun combination? An empty stomach and Red Bull! Seriously!! Not so good for the train of thought and liver, but great if you're going for that jittery, overly hyper feel.

So....yeah....this blog has gone way off topic. Wait, can it go off topic if there was never a topic to begin with? No? Okay, good! I really have no idea what I want to write about right now...I just kind of started typing because I told the boy and a friend of mine I would have one done tonight. Let's see....


Okay, so I was going to start a list about why it would be awesome to be old, but I lost interest by Pro #1...so we'll save that for another post. Thanks, Red Bull. Now everyone's disappointed because of you. I hope you're happy.

I've got it! I was talking with one of my best friends tonight, and we were talking about the pros and cons of showering at night or in the morning (I never claimed that our discussions were ground breaking). I prefer showering at night, and she got used to showering in the morning because her mom always told her to never go to bed with her hair wet. She said she had no idea why her mom didn't want her to go to bed with wet hair, but she got the distinct feeling that something bad would happen if she did. I started thinking about the things you could tell a child in order to keep them from doing things or, on the flip side, encourage them to do things.  I decided as we were talking that why should lies be limited to just getting them to do things? I think I'm going to make shit up at any opportunity I get. It'll teach them to be creative. Or put them in therapy. Either way, I think they'll appreciate the lesson. For example, tonight, I decided that Santa Claus is actually a member of the Russian mob, and those toys are the toys of Russian children who didn't listen to their parents. They're blood toys. I don't even know if there's a Russian mob, but what does little Susie know? She's five. And if she doesn't care about that, then Santa's going to start offing all of the other fictional characters, like the Easter bunny, the tooth fairy, and Edward Cullen. Actually, he'll probably just kill the Cullen kid just on principle. Seriously? Who the fuck sparkles? Santa doesn't tolerate that kind of bullshit. Oo! Maybe that'll keep her away from glitter too! That shit is the herpes of the craft world...not only will I not have to clean glitter up, but maybe she'll avoid becoming a stripper too! I'm killing three sparkly-ass bird with one stone! Thank Russian mobster Santa!! You're the best!

I have a feeling that when I do have kids, I'm going to be getting a lot of concerned notes from the teachers regarding little Suzie's (or was it Susie...I can't be bothered to scroll up there to look) ideas about the way things work in the world. Oh well, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Well, the Red Bull has already worn off, and now I have a headache, so I think I will bid thee adieu for now. Hopefully I'll have something better for you guys next time!

p.s. I'm also not editing this one, so if there are typos, please ignore them..you know what I meant.