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idiotprufs

the blog that made the pope laugh so hard he peed himself.

Archive for the tag “Christmas”

A Family Christmas at the Fish and Game Club (the Foul Stench of Death)

 

 

 

deer heads

Merry Christmas…not for the deer.

A dark and dusty cabin that sits atop a lonely hill. Filled with cobwebs and death. Some of the dead things are animals that were stuffed and posed for display, some just crawled in and found it a suitable place to die. Morbid, dank, ghoulish, and creepy, it’s the perfect setting for a weird occultic ritual, or in your case: the big family Christmas party.

They’re all there: Grandmother, aunts and uncles, cousins, second cousins, Cousin It, that cousin that everyone thinks is a hobbit, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, not so great-grandchildren, in-laws, outlaws, felons, those still awaiting their court date, significant others, insignificant others, and that weird guy with the eye-patch that doesn’t seem to belong to any particular family, but who always seems to be there.

Upon arrival you must approach your grandmother and “kiss the ring” before doing anything else. One year your cousin Bucky went to get a Coke before “kissing the ring.” His family now refers to that year as the year of tears.

Grandmother sits on her throne, peering down over her kingdom like Yertle the Turtle, but without the Seussian whimsy.

“I see you’ve decided to grace us with your presence this year,” she says, her voice filled with reptilian cold-bloodedness.

“Yeah, sorry about not making it last year, but I was in a fairly severe accident,” you defend yourself.

“So severe you couldn’t be here?”

“I had several broken bones and a puncture lung.”

“Just one punctured lung–you have two of them don’t you? Anyway, you should be more careful.”

“The other guy ran a stoplight.”

“Don’t try to blame someone else for your carelessness.”

“He was a serial killer trying to evade the police.”

“I’ll bet he at least spent time with his family.”

“I’m sure he did,” you respond, “it takes time to chop people up and bury them in the backyard.”

You decide to move on as she gives you her look of glaring disapproval–it’s a look you know well.

As you approach the refreshment table you overhear your cousin Beatrice talking to your aunt Mitsy. “How has the Wednesday night book club been going?” Beatrice asks Mitsy.

“Book club?” you say confusedly as you interrupt, “I thought you got together on Wednesday nights to sacrifice small animals, and put curses on those who have disappointed you over the course of the week.”

“We talk about books too,” Mitsy yells defensively.

As this is happening your Uncle Finster and Aunt Sally arrive with their two children, Ignorance and Want.

Note: yes, Ignorance and Want are horrible names for children. Sally read A Christmas Carol one year and badly misinterpreted that part…she’s an imbecile.

As Finster exits the car, an avalanche of empty Coors Light cans spill to the ground.

“Should you be doing that after what happened on Thanksgiving,” Cousin Bucky asks Finster.

Finster stops and reflects for a moment, “I don’t remember Thanksgiving.”

“He doesn’t remember November,” Sally says tersely.

The in-laws are out at the gun range, slugging down vodka, firing weapons into the air, and ruing their life choices. You decide to avoid that.

Your cousin Philippa, the vegan, arrives and regards the various moose and deer heads mounted on the walls with a sense of disgust. “The air in here is rife with the foul stench of death,” she says.

“That’s your Aunt Sally’s three bean salad,” Uncle Finster replies as he unsuccessfully tries to take a swig from an already empty and crumpled Coors Light can, “it could also be your Aunt Sally,” he says with resignation. “I hate my @$#%ing life.”

You suddenly feel a chill that penetrates to your soul. You turn to see your aunt Jackal approaching.

“I see you’re here this year,” her voice drips with disdain, “we missed you last year.”

You know she didn’t miss you the way one human being misses another human being, but more the way a poisonous snake strikes at a bunny rabbit, but misses.

In your mind you play out the possible scenarios for the course this conversation could take. Then you decide screw it. “You are a hideous intolerable bitch and I don’t want your shrill voice piercing my eardrums.” As you walk away you mutter to yourself, “that one is going to cost me big at next Wednesday’s “book club” meeting.”

As you sit and gnaw on dry turkey and three bean salad, (the three bean salad really is shit) you watch a gaggle of your aunts in the corner scheming and peering in your direction. You watch as Sally screams at Ignorance for pulling Want’s hair. You watch in amusement as Finster urinates in the fireplace. He won’t remember December either, you think to yourself.

As you attempt to cut a piece of turkey with your fork, (knives haven’t been allowed at family functions since the stabbing incident of 2009) you watch as one of the in-laws limps in with a fresh gunshot wound. It’s Uncle Gabe–you win the pool.

It’s just another big family Christmas at the fish and gun club.

bad family

These are not your family members…you should be so lucky.

 

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Christmas and Rutabagas

rutabaga

It’s Christmastime again: the perfect opportunity to brighten the spirits of a loved one with the gift of the rutabaga.

What’s so special about the rutabaga you may ponder–what isn’t so special about the rutabaga is my response.

  • They can be roasted.
  • They can be baked.
  • They can be boiled as a flavor enhancer in soups.
  • They can be boiled as a flavour enhancer in soups in Great Britain. (You wouldn’t believe how much tastier the soup is with that extra U in the word flavour.)
  • They can be thinly julienned as a side dish, in a salad or as a garnish.
  • They can be thinly julienned and used to cleanup oil spills in the driveway.
  • They can be mashed into a paste and used to degrease engines.
  • They can be mashed into a paste and used as a beautifying face cream. (It won’t make you more attractive, but it will cover up your butt-ugly face.)
  • You can make rutabaga ice cream.
  • You can make a rudimentary boiled rutabaga stew that was a staple of famine ridden Europe during the war and pretend you’re living in famine ridden Europe during the war–because pretending is fun.
  • You can chuck them at Kayne West’s head. (It’s such a huge bloated target.)
  • You can chuck them at the heads of people you’re ambivalent about.
  • You can chuck them at the heads of people you like. (The thunk of a rutabaga bouncing off a human skull is surprisingly satisfying.)
  • You can fill your child’s stocking with them. (But ensure they’re fresh; they can attract flies.)
  • You can use them to attract flies.
  • You can carve them into lanterns as was the old Irish tradition.
  • You can carve them into lanterns and chuck them at Kanye West’s head. (Hopefully the beginnings of a new tradition.)
  • And finally, you can make the traditional Finnish Christmas dish Lanttulaatikko.
rutabaga dish

Lanttulaatikko is a delicious Finnish Christmas dish–you can also chuck it at Kayne West’s head.

Addendum: Don’t make rutabaga ice cream…it sucks.

Black Friday: You’re not Doing it Right

black friday

If you haven’t been bitten in the face, you’re not doing it right.

Black Friday: the day even genteel old ladies become MMA cage fighters.

Remember: if you have to commit a few misdemeanors and a stray felony or two in the act of acquiring Christmas gifts, it’s perfectly justifiable.

If you’re not engaging in activities that are at the very least, ethically and morally dubious, you’re heart just isn’t into it.

It’s called Black Friday for a reason. It’s not called Rosy Red Cheery Friday, you pansies.

If you’re not out there causing pain, you’re not doing right.

I have a few helpful tips for Black Friday:

  • The first item in your shopping cart should be a meat tenderizer–you need quick access to a weapon that you can later claim to the authorities, was just an item on your shopping list.
  • Beware of air flow before pepper-spraying a fellow shopper/combatant, you don’t want any of that stuff drifting into your own eyes–it really stings.
  • When grappling with an elderly person over an item, don’t hold back just because they appear to be having a heart attack, in my experience they are faking it at least 38% of the time.
  • Don’t be influenced just because a mother is with her child. That child is either a prop meant to endear sympathy, a diversion to distract you, or it’s an attack dog that she will sic on you the moment you get to close to an item she is after. (Little kids are vicious and they have really sharp teeth.)
  • Bite wounds from small children should be attended to immediately–you have no idea what kind of diseases those filthy little potato-faced brats have.
  • Finally, before wrapping a gift intended for a loved one, be sure to remove the price tag or any blood spatter that may be on the item. It’s just rude to give a gift with the price tag and or incriminating DNA still on it.

Remember: the important thing about the season is that you get what you want at the expense of your fellow man.

Final Note: make sure you keep the receipts; that gift you stabbed another human being in the face to get, will likely be returned.

weapon

And you’ve cleaned the blood from it, it makes a great gift.

Thank You Crazy Lady for Giving Us a Classic

christmas story

It was a chance encounter with a woman wearing a button that read: DISARM THE TOY INDUSTRY, in angry block red letters.

It’s all a Government plot to prepare the Innocent for evil, Godless War!  I know what they’re up to! Our committee is on to them, and we intend to expose this decadent Capitalistic evil!

She told him as she handed him a smudged pamphlet denouncing the U.S. as a citadel of warmongers, profit-greedy despoilers of the young and promoters of worldwide Capitalistic decadence, all through plastic popguns and Sears Roebuck fatigue suits for tots.

It was this encounter that led Jean Shepperd to recount his youthful almost maniacal desire for a Red-Ryder carbine-action range-model BB gun, and the lengths he went one Christmas in efforts to obtain one.

He then wrote the autobiographical essay, Duel in the Snow, or Red Ryder Nails the Cleveland Street Kid, which became the basis for A Christmas Story.

So thank you crazy lady for helping give us a classic.

Have a Merry Christmas, I triple-dog-dare you.triple dog dare

 

The Absolutely Indispensable Gift Guide–2016 Edition

bad gift

“You said you liked me au natural.”

All you want is to give the perfect gift for Christmas. The gift that will brighten a child’s face. The gift that shows thoughtfulness and caring. The type of gift that will result in moments to be cherished forever.

What a load of crap that is!

You are an insensitive oaf, but social convention dictates you must give gifts at Christmastime. What you really want, is to give gifts that won’t result in icy glares from your significant other, and more crucially, gifts that won’t result in a face-stabbing.

Granted, most of your big family get-togethers result in a face-stabbing, but there is no need to exacerbate an already tense atmosphere.

Note: that knife-wielding aunt of yours is stunningly spry for a lady with such chunky thighs.

Note to the note:  do not get that knife-wielding aunt of yours with the chunky thighs, a Thighmaster for Christmas–it will not be taken in the spirit with which it is intended.

Since I’m practically an expert at screwing things up badly (I mean, I am shockingly good at it) I am going to aid you in what gifts not to give.

Don’t give your goth cousin a bottle of skin bronzer. Her pale, nearly translucent skin, is her choice. It is not a result of her inability to tan naturally. Her flesh will not burst into flames if it’s exposed to real sunlight. It’s Holy water that makes her flesh burst into flames.

Don’t give your still single aunt a copy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, because the only way she’ll find a man is if she constructs one herself. She will not find it as amusing as you do.

Don’t give your girlfriend, and I cannot stress this too strongly, a self-help book of any kind with the phrase “for dummies” in the title. Just don’t.

Don’t give the guy your cousin is dating this book, when what he really needs is a book about better decision making.

bitches

Don’t give your aunt a jar of anti-wrinkle cream and bottle of wart remover. She will not appreciate them…regardless of how desperately they’re needed.

Don’t give your uncle, who likes to hunt, that bottle of scent-masking spray he’s been asking for. The first thing he’ll do is try it out, and nobody wants to sip eggnog while they sit next to someone who wreaks of deer urine.

Note: Sure, your uncle generally wreaks of urine, but he splashes on that deer stuff like it’s cologne.

Don’t give that same uncle a book of vegetarian recipes; he’s just going to use its pages to start the fire he’s going to use to roast the woodchuck he hit with his pickup truck on the way to the Christmas party.

Don’t get your vegan cousin that Chia Pet. It looks entirely too much like bean sprouts growing out of tofu, eventually, he’s going to try to eat it. He’ll be rushed to the hospital, and your entire family will blame you.

Don’t get your aunt and uncle that home drug testing kit. While it may be applicable, your cousin carries a blade, and she will cut you.

Don’t get your wife a rat trap.

Note: Not a joke. One year my uncle bought my aunt a rat trap for Christmas. True story.

Don’t give anybody anything that has Justin Bieber on it. Why: because it has Justin Bieber on it. Enough said.

Don’t give any of your aunts or uncles this book:

problem child

Don’t avoid this gift because you fear recrimination. Avoid this gift because it’s just too late.

Don’t get your boss this mug; he may not have a sense of humor about it.

boss coffee cup

“Why does everybody laugh at me when I drink coffee?”

And finally, don’t give your grandmother that DVD of Deliverance; home movies can be so tedious.

You are now prepared for gift giving this Christmas season.

Addendum

If John Wayne Bobbitt had listened to me when I told him kitchen knives were a terrible Christmas gift for his wife Lorena, perhaps their marriage wouldn’t have become so severed. (Ha! I used the word severed.)

knife

A set of kitchen knives from Bed Bath and Beyond. It was the beyond that got John Wayne Bobbitt in trouble…she cut his penis off.

 

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