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.