Christmas packages in Connecticut.
Have fantasies of “hiding” that creepy ass Elf on a Shelf inside the woodstove?
Even his nose is flaming.
“Of mice and women,” I always tell him.
I have melted like the Winter Warlock and gone all Martha Stewart Christmas shit crazy.
Don we now our gay apparel.
Thank the baby Jesus in his cold, cold manger for this fucking delicious holiday cocktail celebrating his birth.
“And the kind of threesome SHE wants? We’re cool with that.”
I know there are people who read this blog who never, ever comment and I appreciate you just as much.
“WHO IN THE HELL SKIPS BILLIE JEAN?”
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