YOUR Christmas

Wasn't nearly as good as mine.

It was just a regular Christmas, but it was filled with several retard presents, all of which I love and cherish with the same feeling a stillborn receives when you see its jar all decked out for the holidays.

It's like a warped, novelty love.

These bear slippers are so comfortable, and so hairy, I didn't think they'd fit (because I'm a size 13, also known in Canada as a "gross abomination to science, Mr. Big Feet. We don't make anything in your size because you're the modern jew of footwear.")

Among the presents were:

- Fight Club (YEAH my mom pulled through on that one. My Chuck P. collection adds another member.)
- Fat cat mug w/ travel lid (it says right on it that the cat is 30lbs. That's ideal fat cat weight. Borderline diabetic, but you can still pull back if you want.)
- South Park Timmy Bobblehead (it's really sensitive. You can't even jump near it or it YELLS ITS OWN NAME)
- Lizard statue
- Tiki mask (completion of my tiki wall courtesy of Seana)
- Bunch of gift cards
- Epic stocking stuffers (Terry's Chocolate Oranges are my kryptonite. I'd kill your mom, cut her up, splice her genes with your siblings and create a hybrid for an Original flavoured)
- Mortal Kombat 9
- PJs (plaid like a bad man, sprayed with a rad can, made for my legs with the black white and gray brand. That's right, I freestyle.)

All in all, I'd say this year's material possessive marketing of the birth of a random jew boy mess was successful, and I'm glad that some dumb fuck decided to string himself up to ensure that the me's in the world get presents.

Christmas Games

I'm torn.

There are so many video games that I'd love to get before the year's out. Some of 'em are super cheap on Steam, but the problem is, so many are that it's difficult for me to decide on just one. Also, I'm going to have to wait until after Christmas to get any console games, mostly because I know I'm getting something from someone and there's not much I hate more than getting the same gift twice by accident, or buying one before I receive it. Imagine you adopted a kid and it turns out your wife was pregnant but you didn't know because she's fat as fuck and the baby was hiding somewhere in the rolling hills of her overflowing pudge. Only in my case, the pudge is wrapping paper and family sentiment. Red Faction Armageddon? Garry's Mod? The Binding of Isaac? Speaking of that...

I definitely still love Super Meat Boy, so it doesn't really matter what I'm going to get for Christmas because I'm probably going to set aside money for The Binding of Isaac anyway. It's an Indie game on Steam that's designed by the same people as Meat, only it's an arena-style dungeon shooter that changes every time you load it. That means the game is different literally every time, and for what, three bucks? It's retarded to me that EB Games and Gamestop (aka the same shit in a different, rapist package) can charge $20 for a game that's a decade old, but arcades with a huge amount of gameplay sell for less than ten. Smarten up.


Everyone seems to have some sort of dealy-deal on, but I know for a fact that everything's going to be cheaper on Boxing Day, so it's just playing the waiting game. I was never good at the waiting game. It's like hard core monopoly without the board, pieces, money, cards, or jail. Well, maybe jail, if I go on a killing spree form lack of patience. At least I know who I'd target.

The Most Amazing Family Guy Package Ever

So we're in the shitty Wal-Mart, chubby teenage housewife capital of the world. It's the Christmas season (for the love of god himself) which means that everyone feels compelled to leave their slum lord mud huts to trundle down to the pawn shop to get a shoddy present for someone they don't particularly care about. Like a plate or something.

My grandmother and I aren't those people. We have lists. We spend 20 minutes in each aisle looking over the same things again and again, trying to imagine whether the giftee would use that present or throw it at a hobo. God damn it, we have an agenda. That is, until she spotted something. Something that would change my life forever.

As far as blue rectangular prisms go, this was one of the sexiest ones I'd seen. Geometry gets me aroused, and the Family Guy Kit was no exception. The "As Seen On TV" logo slapped on the side made it even better. Without reading what was in it, I put it in the cart. We agreed to find out how much it was before purchase (because if this box is like $50 or something stupid, I'd brick on every cashier in the place), since apparently Wal-Mart treats price tags like foster parents treat that one kid they hate. By the time we got to the register, I was giddy with sweaty anticipation. Rung up, $12. That's a god damn steal.

When I got in the car, I opened the box and peered inside. Immediately, I was wet. Let me list all of the contents:

1. Sexy box
2. Brian Griffin mug
3. Four Coasters with Joe, Brian, Peter and Quagmire on them respectively
4. Four drink stirrers of the same variety as above
5. Two bumper stickers which are, quite frankly, just plain silly
6. Peter vs. Giant Chicken fight poster (which may be one of the best posters in my entire basement)
7. Brian Griffin book of 30 martini recipes.

I always complain about the outrageous price of everyday items. Apparently, Seth MacFarlane came down from his wondrous, silver-lined cloud filled with angel kisses and cherub semen just to heed my call of honour. He opened my chest to his man-parts, allowing for safe passage into my heart. He fucked me in the soul. Then he made me breakfast.

I hope he calls tomorrow.

Loving Me Some Typography

This is really my first foray into the world of typographical design. There are a few things I'm not happy with (it's kind of right-heavy, and the italic doesn't quite line up), but I've received one very positive review and there have been other people who have liked it. That's just from today. I've been interested in typography for quite some time, but I don't like learning from tutorials (I'd much rather teach myself through trial and error), so the going is particularly slow. At the very least, for a first try I think it looks great. I got the colour scheme down anyway.

The quote is an excerpt from a cartoon show called Home Movies, episode titled "Camp." It's titled "Cloudchaser", because that's the nickname Coach McGuirk is given by the Crywalkers in the woods, after being lured there under the pretence that there would be hunting. There was no hunting. There was, however, crying, hugging, man-emotions, man-votes and mandates. Good episode.

Mortal Kombat 9 Is Great For People Who Hate the Series

I've pretty much hated Mortal Kombat since I was born. While still in the hospital, my mom set up a Sega Genesis and tried to get my little midget infant self to play MK2 with her. After about five seconds, I promptly slapped everyone in the room, removed the game and tossed the system out the window. I then put the game into the mouth of the doctor who aided in my birth, and palm-chopped his jaw shut, breaking both like sugar canes.

The only exception until recently was Deadly Alliance, because it had a solid story mode and the graphics were boss. It was (and still is) the best one on PS2 and that's the only system I had that wasn't by Nintendo. Years passed and I didn't keep up with the releases because I hated all the ones prior to DA. When MK9 came out, Matt got it and I haven't turned back.

I don't know if it's the gore, or the graphics in general, or perhaps the diversity in the gameplay. There are a lot of modes and within them are several minigames. The Challenge Tower is 300 rounds long and each one is different enough to be entertaining (not to hear Matt say it, for someone who likes zombies so much he sure gets tired of killing 'em quick.) It's fun to blow off steam when the game's on easy mode, plus there's tag-out co-op and such if you actually have friends.

You can play online too, but you have to be Zeus' boner and beg for mercy from every other god in order to get someoen what doesn't pick Sub-Zero and spam the same fucking combo over and over, while you're pressed up against the wall of the ring area unable to move. Your opponent's win/loss displays before you accept the match, which is hilarious sometimes because you'll see people with retarded ratios like 384 wins/10 deaths, or if you're really lucky, somewhere in the vicinity of 500/7. Other times, if the lords of Hades aren't ass-fucking slaves, and are instead smiling upon you, the numbers are flipped, but not nearly on as vast of a spectrum. Even in that situation though, many people rage quit (myself included, if I'm being dominated like all hell. Yeah, that's right. Fuck you) or lag out, for the love of christ. Aside from all that jargen, it can be a good time.

All in all, I'm glad I have it. It's a good time waster, and I don't really enjoy classic arcade games a whole bunch (except asteroids, because it's rock solid), but that's one of them. Super good.

ALWAYS Buy Good Toilet Paper

There are a few things that human beings have invented that tie directly into our sense of dignity and self-worth.

Good toilet paper is definitely one of the few creations that shouldn't change, at least until telekinesis is commonplace and people can eliminate waste via brainwave. I don't care how poor your are. If you're going to wipe your ass at all, you better pray to god you're applying material that is soft yet durable. I don't know why one-ply even exists in the face of this philosophy.

I have friends who have admitted that they do not care what they use for this purpose. There aren't many things I fundamentally disagree with, but general apathy towards proper toiletries has to be one of them. For those of you who don't know, one-ply toilet paper is like a brillo pad. You might as well use your own hand or thin sandpaper, because it's guaranteed to tear in half right at the most crucial moment, leaving your palm exposed to a very dark and frightening scenario. If you're using one-ply toilet paper, don't waste your money; use your hand. Grate your fingernails across the most tender area. Prolapse yourself and take pictures. Put those pictures on the internet, label them "faces of one-ply." At least you'll be doing the world a service.

I will fight you if you don't use respectable toilet sheets. I will slap you so hard that you'll develop a complex and for the rest of your life, any time someone reaches for a high five you'll slip into a coma for a fucking week. If I were 100% homeless, I would put money away for that sole purpose. It's not even expensive, you're just a cheap bastard. The difference between shitty toilet paper and amazing toilet paper is pocket change, and if you can't bring yourself to pony up the extra funds, don't bother spending a penny and just blow on the area until the shit dissolves.

Up-and-Coming Comedians Who Steal Jokes

Imagine for a second that you're a hooker.
Some of you, I sense, won't have much difficulty doing this.

You've only been pleasuring men for money for a few months, if that. Many would call you new to the trade. You have some experience, but only with the dregs and the scum who will take just about anyone, or with the really hardcore patrons who want to try everyone to see if there's a "perfect fit", if you get my meaning.

As with any job, you associate with your peers, share interests and swap horror stories (in the hooker business I can imagine these tales of terror are much more graphic and disturbing, so bonus). As you can imagine, the more seasoned pros will have certain techniques or methods for, say, cradling the balls, or some bizarre hip rotation. Maybe some of them have a signature technique they always use.

Now, say that there's one specific prostitute. We'll call her Boniqua. Say Boniqua has a certain approach to giving a handjob, like a routine. Guys love it, and they talk about their favourite parts, like when she cranks the shaft clockwise until it looks like a licorice or something. She and her friends talk often about this handy-cycle she adheres to, and you can also hear commotion among the more frequent clients about how her thick, calloused workman's hands are great for this line of work.

Business is slow for you because you're not so well known, so you decide to adopt this trick in order to rake in the customers. Maybe it's based on familiarity, or you think because you're so underground that nobody will relate what you're doing to the more popular version. Say maybe a brothel regular picks you out of the lineup for a change, and you try Boniqua's patented handling blueprint. This guy is there all the time. He's immediately going to recognize the technique and call you on it, "Hey, you stole this shit from Boniqua! Not only that, but she does it way better, rookie." Even the less-frequent scumbags are going to know, by word of mouth alone, where your palm-twist is from. You're busted, and so is your reputation.

The moral of the story is: If you're going to go to all the trouble finding the wardrobe and rehearsing your pitch, don't deliver stolen goods when someone can easily get the original, far better version somewhere else for the same price, or maybe a little more if it's on television.