Santa's Identity Crisis

My hatred for Christmas has been discussed.

But let's take a deeper dive at the Czar of Christmas Spirit - ol Santa Claus.

Or should I say - Chris Kringle?

Or perhaps, Jolly ol St. Nick?

I'm on to you, fatty.

Know who else needs an alias? Criminals. And strippers.

And I hope to god Santa isn't a stripper. Mostly because I am out of $1 bills and the ATM charges like $10 to take money out. Daddy needs a lap dance!

So that leaves a criminal. Who would have thought that a giant fat man that climbs into your chimney when you are sleeping and lets little kids sit on his lap would be a criminal??? I know, right?

The only other explanation is that he is a super hero, and Chris Kringle is to Santa Claus as Peter Parker is to Spiderman. Or Clark Kent is to Superman.

Or maybe he is just some old guy with no real super powers whatsoever.

In which case Chris Kringle would be to Santa Claus as Bruce Wayne is to Batman.

I still wouldn't sit on either of their laps.

I'm Dreaming of a Snow White Christmas

A conversation at Disney World this weekend -

Snow White - "Well hello! What is your name?"

Me - "Narm. I see you aren't wearing a ring. I'm sorry things with you and Prince Charming didn't work out. You seemed like a really cute couple."

Girl behind me - "You're as asshole!"

Apparently I don't understand the magic of Disney.

But Snow White, if you're reading this -

Call me.

Disney World

Narm - you just got done writing an entire blog - what are you going to do now!

"I'm going to Disney Land! ...or Disney World. Wait, which one is in Florida and which one is in California? California is the one to my left, right? And Florida is below me - like China. "

Anyways, I'm not here. I'm in the land of Disney, chasing around a 5 yr old and a 2yr old as they direct me around.

But most of all, I'm trying to pry the Lady Friend away from Cinderella's Castle. They may have to call in the 7 dwarves for back up.

"Put down the tiara and nobody gets hurt."

I'll be back on Monday.

My dignity is staying there.

Snow Excuse

I can't wait for the snow. I hope we get 48 inches in January. I hope it never stops snowing from January through March. Know what would be even better?

Freezing rain. Non-stop. In fact, I hope my front door freezes shut.

While everyone else in Cleveland is saying, "Whoa is me! It is so cold and snowy! Whatever shall I do!"

I know what I'll be doing.

Nothing.

I'll be on the couch, under a nice warm blanket watching a marathon of something on the History Channel that I have no intention of remembering or putting to any use.

And you will have no good reason for me to do otherwise.

You can't tell me it's a beautiful day.

You can't tell me I should be working on the yard.

It will even be too cold to sit in Marissa Miller's bushes and watch her read the newest issue of Better Homes and Gardens.

Snow is the "I have a headache" season. It is the perfect excuse. It is "my dog ate it" and "my back is out" rolled into one. It is like "I have to work" with a side of "I have to watch the kids".

Snow is Mother Nature's way of ignoring your phone calls.

I can't wait for the snow and all of the nothingness that it brings. If it snows on Christmas, I don't care if I am on Santa's Naughty list. If I get nothing, I will get everything I need.

And if you want me to come out and have a snow ball fight?

Sorry, I have a headache.

And my back is out.

And I have to work while I watch the kids.

...and my dog ate it.

Movember Mo' Problems

Movember has come to a close, and with it, the joy brought to the word from all of those beards and mustaches. I have decided to keep mine a bit longer - partially because I enjoy being a walking advertisement for the sex and partially because Cleveland is really fucking cold.

It is always a sad day when Movember ends, but on a positive note, now it will be a lot easier to tell apart the Movember participants and the people who are just pedophiles.

Beard Born On Date - Nov. 4th.


* Yes, that is my bathroom and yes, it is painted bright purple.

** I have owned that shirt since the year 2000, when I bought it at a thrift store for $0.75 and then had my senior pictures taken in it. I assume its actual age is somewhere around a billion.

*** My eyebrows look like fuzzy caterpillars.