And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,
When all of a sudden I said, “What the hell?”
At the sound of a landing artillery shell!
Dear Auntie Charlene,
I hope your Christmas was as nice as ours. Thank you SO much for the thick padded pajamas, which will really help keep me warm through these cold Miami nights.
Honey, I’m running out to buy a Santa hat. I’ll be back in a few.
Wait, sweetie! Will you pick me up some cigarettes?
Come on. I don’t want to make TWO stops!
You don’t have to! That guy over at 8th and Main sells both things. It’s one-stop shopping.
Back in better days, if there was one thing on Earth that was safe, it was a snow globe. As long as you didn’t smash it with a ball-peen hammer, stuff the shards of glass into your mouth and chew them, you were fine.
If you’re like me, nothing makes you think of the Holy Land like donkey poop.
I mean, the donkeys are right there in the Nativity story, and where there are donkeys, there is, you know, leftover evidence of donkeys.
Blog Guy, I have 35 seconds to spare. Show me something really peculiar to put me in the holiday mood.
Blog Guy, I know you sometimes do fantasy photos for your readers. Do you have any money left in your 2008 budget?
Blog Guy, please help settle an argument with my boyfriend. Is it proper to tip bloggers at Christmas?
I have a holiday tradition going back, oh, one year, in which I offer up some bummer holiday tales to manage the emotions of folks like me who are giddy with the love of the season.
My opinion of wax museums is no secret. I fail to get the entertainment value of life-size statues of famous people who look like they were recently embalmed.