zenexistence

I'm eventually going to address Christmas related topics but first I had to hit these two high notes because I've had a poop week and anything that helps remove the poop makes me happy.
Ummm ... anyway, moving on.
I'm not a fan of this band but the bird singing this made me cackle with childlike glee:



And because I can't get enough animals today, I give you my favorite video of 2010. The part at 3:02 makes me laugh like a hyaena every.damn.time. EVERY!:



Allen! Allen! Allen! Allen! Allen! Allen! Al! Allen! Allen!


Okay, so Christmas is right around the corner. Actually, it's down the street a tad, take a right by the liquor store, next to the pawn shop but I think you get the implied point. All I need to shop for is a couple more people but one of those people is my Dad.
I'm not quite sure what to get a guy that just had a quadruple bypass.
Part of me wants to get him a years supply of cheeseburgers at Steak n Shake to be funny. Would he find it as funny as me?
Truth be told? Yes, he would because we totally share the same sense of humor.



Then I'd always make him buy me lunch when I visited my parents in North Carolina, "Hi Mum, hi Pop, how are you? Soooooo, why don't we do lunch. Wait, wait, wait ... Dad, why don't you buy since you have that handy-dandy Steak n Shake gift card? Buy yourself a triple cheeseburger and, what the hell, splurge for the extra large pail of fries, why don'tcha!"



There's no Christmas tree at the place I'm staying this year.
This should not surprise me.
This does not surprise me.
But this still does tend to disappoint me a dollop.
So I'm going to go find one of those wee potted trees tomorrow and I will chill with Bones, drink cocktails and together we'll decorate my twig.
And by "decorate my twig" I mean adorn my small potted tree.
Don't be foul.



Standing in line at the post orifice is like a trip to the DMV. A wretched hive of scum and villainy. A delicious treat amongst the salt of the earth.
I stand there silently and observe people and their mannerisms. I wish I could record with my eyeballs the things I see/hear/smell there. It's shocking,, really, how little people appreciate our modern conveniences. "I have to wait another 40 seconds in line to mail this parcel 2000 miles? And it'll get there in four days?? FOUR days?? This is an outrage!!"
What is an outrage, goat-fucker, is that you're making a stink out of something that is actually a pretty damn spiffy service. Don't like it? Hop in your little crop-duster of a plane and traverse the American countryside to deliver your fruitcake to Aunt Buttcrack yourself.



I want nothing this Christmas. Zero. Nada. Nothing.
Okay, fine, I lie.
I want to travel more next year but I don't think Santa can be depended upon to deliver such things (even though tickets weigh next to nothing, asshole).
I'd rather just give gifts.
I like giving. Truly. Finding a gift that fits the person's individuality is a reward in and of itself. The only problem with mailing parcels to people is that I don't get to see their expressions of joy (or disgust or outrage or shame) that they offer when they open said items.



I'm not a huge fan of eggnog. I mean, really, just say the word:
Egg.
Nog.
What the hell does it really mean?
Oh.
Wow.
We're going to dispatch from that topic for a second.
As I was typing this I was eating Triscuits.
You know, woven wheat crackers that you can put just about anything of nothing at all on top of and eat until your stomach bursts?
Well, I was attempting said stomach-bursting in a wish to assuage my tapeworm (Terrence) and was downing them at a pretty fascinating rate. As I finished off the last quarter of the box I was going to dump the remainder of the bag (which contains the delicious salt and Triscuit dust that we all love so dearly) into my gaping maw when I happened to look in the bag.
Which was full of ants.
I've been eating ants for the last fifteen minutes.
Maggots, Michael. You're eating maggots. How do they taste?
Will that lead to ants-in-pants later?
One never knows.
One would never admit to it, more than likely.



I'm sure all of you are giving to a charity this holiday season. I don't even ask because I simply know you are, being as magnanimous and socially aware as you all undoubtedly are.
I am giving to the below charity:



I'm going to go put on Christmas music. No, seriously, stop laughing, I am. I love The Little Drummer Boy.
Ew, not THAT way -- I love the soooong.
Favorite.video.ever.


Okay, I'm comfortable enough now to go back to this subject; I'm going to go research eggnog because, as I said, the word repulses me and I've never been a huge fan of the drink. Granted, I've never had alcoholic eggnog before and I think I'll try to make it tonight.
If all goes well and I don't blow up the kitchen (or my stomach) I'll report in tomorrow as to how I like this drink.



Love,
Scotty