So this is the week after Christmas, and what have you done?

Nothing.

Pretty much nothing.

The holiday season is when we allow an elderly man that lives as a recluse to break into our homes. I dare anyone to look at these two iterations of Santa and wonder who wouldn’t feel totally terrified of this man? So much red. Redrum.

the holiday horror.

the holiday horror show that are these depictions of Santa at the medical supply store near my old apartment. Make sure you’re healthy before Santa attacks you and forever haunts your nightmares.

It doesn’t help that every year that my friends and I get photographed with Santa he somehow finds a way to inappropriately touch me (see). Leading to this joyful Christmas joke:

Hilarious.

Hilarious.

Which is why it makes total sense that my beloved, and miserable, cat George decided that Christmas was the perfect time to die. He had no time for candy canes, or laughing babies, or the inappropriate sexual advances of Santa. “Fuck it,” he thought. “I’m just going to die instead.”

I feel ya, George

I feel ya, George

Though there are always bright spots, like this Vonnegut fan at the local Wawa giving all customers this Christmas miracle.

Is that the star that the Wise Men followed?

Is that the star that the Wise Men followed?

And of course there is also when your friend knows you so well that she makes you into a Christmas .gif depicting you as a cheerful Christmas elf that you so truly are. Or at least you drinking.

Drinking till the New Year.

Drinking till the New Year.

Glad that you’ve all survived the holiday season. I’ll see you in the New Year where we can start our plan to kill Santa.

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Filed under Booze, cats, friends, Holidays

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