It was around this time last year that my beloved George was dead in a space heater box in my living room that Liono and Easy Mac ended up jumping in while I was at work and therefore solidified their absolute fear of all future boxes.
You’re welcome, George
Some people think of Christmas and conjure up memories of Santa and family and a baby in a manger. But we both know that December 25th will forever be the day that human idiocy infuriated your old ass into death.
Miss you.
Merry Krampus
May Krampus wander the streets and terrify children with rusty chains and bells, bringing swift and beastly justice to naughty kids, during this special holiday season.
Filed under art, doodles, Holidays, horrifying
Yesterday, on Christmas, I spent an entire day on the train traveling back to my apartment. I purchased myself some holiday PBRs and got ready to have a full blown solo Christmas pity party. All of my intentions were focused on feeling totally sorry for myself because I was spending Christmas alone. However, George had other plans.
His plan?
Dying
This is exactly how he wanted to go, on Christmas: a day usually reserved for family, and happiness, and joy. Those are all of the things that he hates and stands against. Misery? Pain? Mournful tunes on the banjo? The last chapter of Oil? Ruining gift giving holidays? George knew that those were the real simple pleasures in life.
And, obviously, hating you. That was another of his favorite things.
Except, of course, there is more pleasure in dying. So, after a hundred and fifty thousand years of life George went to meet him maker.
I think we all know who George’s maker is
And I, for one, will miss the ever loving shit out of that miserable cranky cat bastard. And, while his cold dead body rests in the space heater box in my living room while I am at work (HE WOULD HAVE WANTED IT THAT WAY DON’T JUDGE ME), later on I will be memorializing him in the best way possible: playing The Ballad of Georgie on the ukulele and whiskey drankin’.
Bye, littlest evil.
There are certain things that are sacred and unjoking in my [you] life and those are the traditions I have with my closest mates. For the last ten years we have celebrated two things: our own (un PC named) version of Thanksgiving ( see: youfood for the full update), and the other thing is our annual photo with Santa.
Look at those fly people
During the holidays tradition is important.
And one part of this holiday tradition is how much bad touching Santa seems to get away with when I sit on his lap.
In the past it was always just a joke pertaining to the fact that due to my size I would have to be the one perched on Santa’s lap. It was a perfect set up for a joke.
However this year Santa amped up his perv game. When I went to sit on his lap it seemed like awkward quarters, what with so many people flanking us. I ended up plopping onto Mrs. Klaus’s lap. So I popped up off her diminutive frame, but Santa full on grabbed my hips to “re-adjust me” on top his lap. And on the way down onto the holiday lap, Santa got a handful of my ass.
He has his hand on my freaking hip in this shot. Damn you, Santa!
So, Santa is kind of a douche bag.
Happy holidays from You Life (and Bear Ambulance) to you
Filed under cranky, friends, Holidays, horrifying
You life is not so great 