Tag Archives: santa

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

Holiday Hell Tour: A Molesty Santa

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

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!

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

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Filed under cranky, friends, Holidays, horrifying