Dec 19, 2015

A Rebel Without a Claus

     At the risk of sounding like the Grinch, I hadn't been the biggest fan of December. But this year for once I was really happy that it finally was December because that meant, in case you haven't noticed (or no one told you via Twitter or Instagram), that November's been done and over with. Yay.
     It really comes as no surprise that I'm not the biggest fan of November judging by everything that went down in November of 2014. And apparently, now that month's doomed for life, at least according to the conversation I had with mother dearest about a month ago.
     "I'm having trouble sleeping lately. And I have the weirdest nightmares about all the stuff that happened last year," I told her over the phone. 
     "Yeah, that's understandable," said mother, the doctor.
     "Understandable? Why?"
     "Because it's November."
     "A lot of bad things happened to you last November."
     "But I wasn't even thinking about those, I'm not dwelling on the past. Out of the blue, stuff just started haunting me in my sleep and THEN I began thinking about all of it."
     "Yes, it's your subconscious, that's what happens on anniversaries."
     "Great. Now I hate November."
     "Yes, that's understandable. Everything from last year ruined November for you, just like me and your father fighting and braking up over the holidays ruined December for you. That's why you hate December."
     "So what, you go through life and eventually you end up hating all the twelve months and then you die?"
     "Yes, that's about right."
     "Splendid. Where did they teach you that, mom? Med school?"
     "Yes. Psychology."
     "Especially that part about dying, right?"
     "Especially that, yes."
     God, I love my mom's sense of humor. But there's a reason people say there's truth in jest — because there really is truth to be found in jest. And one of the truths in her quip is that I'm not a fan of the holiday season so don't expect some pompous, jolly, Xmas-themed post here on FPS because you're not getting one. The closest thing to it would be this or this, sorry.
     Another truth, distilled from my mom's words, would be that we all eventually die but you really don't need medical school level psychology knowledge to know that. Right??
     There's yet another truth one doesn't have to be a doctor, psychiatrist or psychologist to get, though, which my mother didn't touch upon but it's far more important than the one about dying so I'm squeezing it in nonetheless. Because it's December. Because Christmas and New Year's Eve and all that drunk stuff is just around the corner. But mostly because — although I'm usually not all that holiday-cheery — I'm kind of into this tis'-the-season-to-be-jolly bullshit this year. Why? Because of that truth my mom forget to mention, in jest or otherwise: even though shit happens and you start (subconsciously or not) hating a month, positive stuff can swoop in and give you plenty of reasons to celebrate and remember good anniversaries making you forget or at least not focus on all the negative.
     So maybe ... maybe I actually should put together some pompous, jolly Christmas-themed post since I'm not exactly hating sipping sour cherry liqueur with my man every evening and cuddling under the blanket next to the Christmas tree gleaming all blue and silver ...
     Naah. Fuck holiday spirit, I'm doing this Peet style so let's move on to the jokes and profanities.

Q: Why is Christmas just like your job?

A: You do all the work and the fat guy in the suit gets all the credit.

Q: Why is Santa so jolly?

A: Because he knows where all the naughty girls live.

Q: What do you call a kid who doesn't believe in Santa?

A: A rebel without a Claus. 

Q: Why doesn't Santa have any kids?

A: Because he only comes once a year.

Q: Which Limp Bizkit song do elves listen to while building toys?

A: He did it all for the cookies!

     On Christmas morning, a policeman on horseback stopped for a while. A kid was beside him and the policeman asked, "Hey, did Santa give you that bicycle?" and the kid answered, "Yes." Then the policeman said, "Well, next time tell Santa to put a tail light on it," and he gave the kid a ticket and fined him 20 dollars. But before the policeman left, the kid asked, "Hey, did Santa give you the horse?" The police, joking, replied, "Yes." Then the kid said, "Well, next time, tell Santa to put the dick underneath the horse, not on top."

Q: What's worse than sitting on Santa's lap and him getting an erection?

A: When he stands up and you don't fall off.

Q: What's the difference between Tiger Woods and Santa?

A: Santa stopped at 3 hoes.  

     Thanks for stopping by and looking and reading (obviously) my mishmash jumble of pot-pourri-like craziness, it means the world to me. Therefore, you're welcome to pop by again next week to see what's new on the blog — I post once a week every week, most likely on Wednesdays. But beware, I'm not signing and sealing that in blood so your best bet is to follow FPS via email (or Bloglovin, Twitter, Instagram or Google+) to never miss an update. Or simply come by again sometimes!