Sunday, December 25, 2016

I Miss The Old Christmas And I Love The New Christmas!

It's just me, a cup of coffee and A Christmas Story this morning.  My beautiful bride of 25 years is still nestled upstairs all snug in her bed while I in my slippers sit here gazing at a lonely lit tree listening to Ralphie's father wield a tapestry of obscenities that is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan today.

Years ago, we could not see the bottom half of the tree on Christmas morning, thanks to the skyline of presents neatly stacked by Santa and his younger, drunker elves.  This morning, there are but a couple of stray presents leftover that were opened last night by our now grown children, along with four wrapped gifts that are destined for other homes later today.

This morning, as it has been the past few years, there were no excited, wondering eyes of a little girl waking up the tired, wondering eyes of her older brother while it was still dark outside.  There was no rush of two pajama clad kiddos to Mom and Dad's bed carrying their stockings full of loot that Santa left outside their bedroom doors.  Even after they learned the heartless truth that their parents lied to them about the man in the red suit, they would still come into our room every year, stir us from our long winter's nap just to open their stockings on our bed.

I miss that.  I miss seeing toys circled in the sales flyers.  I miss the frantic, dizzying but exciting trips to Toys R Us.  I miss buying presents that were so big that we had to hide them at the Robinson's house until Christmas Eve.  I miss building trampolines and bicycles and doll houses.  I miss watching them empty their stockings through sleepy, half mast eyes.  I miss going downstairs first to make the coffee and get the camera ready.  I miss staying home on Christmas Day, just the four of us, playing with new toys and video games, eating leftovers and running to 7-11 to buy the batteries we forgot.

We opened presents on Christmas Eve for the first time ever.  I did not like the idea, but our changing lives demanded it.  And it was actually okay.  No, it wasn't okay.  It was awesome.  After the company left, it was just the four of us.  Chris muddled himself an Old Fashioned.  Jess mixed herself a tall glass of something raspberry.  Kim had a glass of wine, and I a beer.  The stockings were stuffed and magically brought downstairs to the living room.  Then it was time to hand out the presents... they both got four this year:  Something they want, something they need, something to wear and something to read.  It was simple, but perfect.  And yet, not everything changed.  For as long as I can remember, each year, Kim buys a game for the family to play.  This year was no different.  It's called Speak Out and it involves a contraption that contorts your mouth into ridiculousness.  If you haven't seen it, Google it.  Let's just say that the four of us have never laughed so hard together.  

So, while I do miss the excitement and tradition of having young ones at Christmas time, I could not be more blessed with the way that those years that have come before have shaped this year and the years to come.  Traditions will change.  It's unavoidable.  So be sure to take hold of that what is constant, the people in your life, and embrace the new traditions together!

The tired, wondering eyes of that little boy opened this morning and went off to work.  And when we see those eyes later today, we will have Christmas with him.  The excited, wondering eyes of that little girl are still closed this morning.  And when they open, we will have Christmas with her.  The ever so beautiful eyes of my still nestled bride will soon come downstairs and together we will have Christmas.  You see, traditions do not define Christmas.  Family defines Christmas.  And I love Christmas!!!

Friday, December 23, 2016

My Stolen Beernog Recipe

It's the fukkin' holidays ya pricks.  So here's a recipe you all can enjoy on Christmas Eve as you gather around the fire with your loved ones.  I call it Beernog.  And I stole it from Bubba J.  But I ain't tellin' him.  Fuk that dummy!

First, ya head over to Market Basket and get yourself a half gallon carton of Hood Eggnog and an 18 pack of Budweiser.  Once you get home, you open up the eggnog and dump that shit down the sink.  Then you drink a bunch of beers and open presents. 

Beernog!  You're Welcome.

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

The Twelve Days of Christmas. Does Anyone Know When They Are?

Exactly when are the 12 days of Christmas anyway?  Are they the 12 days BEFORE Sweet Baby Jesus made his grand entrance into the world?  Or the 12 days after?  Does anyone even really fahkin' give a bag of camel poop about the 12 days except drummin' drummers and milkin' maids?

In my Bible readin' days, I used to know shit.  For example... snakes talk to women in gardens, fishermen wear robes and sandals, frankincense really is a thing, and a 600 year old man can convince two elephants to get on a boat.  If I may dazzle you with another little nugget of Biblical knowledge, the Epiphany falls exactly TWELVE DAYS after Jesus Harold was born unto Mary and the unsuspecting Joseph, who was still trying to figure out exactly how this happened.  If only there was a Maury Povich back then.

Stand back... here comes the lightning strike.
So... back to these 12 friggin' days....  My major issue with this song - the gifts suck.  Except the dancin' ladies, of course.

True love my ass!!!  Seven fucking swans a swimming???   Where the hell am I gonna keep seven swans?  I got rid of my pool last year, fahchrissake!  What happened honey?  Was the store all out of seven dogs a shitting???

Every year, this fukkin' song jumps into our lives.  It's usually at one of those torturous elementary school "Winter Concerts" that used to be called Christmas Concerts until school boards across the nation had their balls cut off by political correctness horseshit.  Some fukkin' Keith Lockhart wannabe music teacher with a fat ass and a bad suit lines up thirty 7 year olds in chocolate stained shirts and clip on ties, puts antlers on their heads and expects these cute little assholes to recite the lyrics when they haven't even learned how to say spaghetti yet.

Question:  Is the first gift the partridge or the pear tree or both.  Admit it... the only partridges you have ever seen were riding in a kaleidoscope bus, singing shitty songs.  (ADHD moment... wouldn't Reuben Kincaid and Alice from the Brady Bunch make a cute couple?)

So tell me, asshole true love of mine - what the hell am I going to do with one bird and a tree?  I don't even like pears, fahchrissake!  They give me the shits. What is with all the fucking birds you are giving out?  Seems like someone might have a fetish that they are keeping quiet.  Partridges, doves, hens, geese, swans...  SHEEEZ!!!   Ya know I'm just gonna set them sunzobitches free and go get a beer, right?

By the way, I'm operating under the premise that the true love in this fucking song is a chick.  Cuz there is no way any dude is going through the trouble of gift wrapping leaping lords or swimming swans.  On the sixth day, she gives the poor son of a bitch 6 geese a laying.... now, are these geese laying eggs or are they doing the haystack hump?  And on the 8th day, what does he get?  He gets 8 maids a milking.... great, eight chicks pulling on cow tits - just what a guy wants.  How about if she gave him 8 maids a milking 9 dancing ladies?  NOW WE ARE TALKING!!!! 

Dear True Love,

If you insist on buying me gifts for twelve days instead of that motorboat I have been asking for, I would like the following:

1st day:  Laurie Partridge under a pear tree with a come hither smile.
2nd day: Tickets to the Big House for the Michigan - OSU game next year.
3rd day:  Sofia Vergara.  PLEASE!
4th day:  A matte black 2016 Road Glide with 8 inch apes and a set of Rinehart Duals.  If ya have to ask, then you can go now.
5th day:  A fifth of Jack and some peace and quiet
6th day:  A lap dance from your hot friend from college.  You never should have introduced me.
7th day:  Airfare and tickets to a Jackson Taylor show in Texas.
8th day:  Sofia Vergara.  PRETTY PLEASE!
9th day:  9 ladies dancing to Motley Crue's Girls Girls Girls wearing nothing but glitter and plastic heels.
10th day:  More ladies dancing:  Gisele, Shakira and Jennifer Lopez, thank you.
11th day:  A 30 pack of PBRs and a plate of wings.  And some two ply toilet paper.
12th day:  One backrub with a happy ending for the Epiphany.  Come on, every Christmas story has a happy ending!!!

Monday, December 19, 2016

Pats Recrap: Defense Wins The Hat This Time

The Patriots chahtah flight from Denvah last night was delayed on the runway for two hours.  It wasn't because of weather, mechanical trouble or a drunk pilot.  The reason?  They couldn't find Malcolm Butlah.  That was until Matt Patricia, the rocket scientist that he is, figured it out and texted Emmanuel Sanders and asked him to check his jock strap.  Sure enough, Butlah was still in it.

The Pats wrapped up their 8th consecutive division championship last night and they did it with style.  Not only did they take the Mile High Monkey off their back, they swirlied that primate, stuck a deflated football up his ass and lopped off his balls and slapped Von Miller in the cheek with them.  Hashtag nutzonyerface asshole!!  Now gimme my hat and tshirt, bitch!

With the win, Hoodie Wan Kebelichik's squad secured another first round bye, the seventh season in a row they accomplished that feat, and remained lahge and in chahge for home field advantage through the playoffs.  Jeezus Christ... how do other cities do it?  We are so wikkid fahkin' spoiled in New England that had the Pats ended up hosting a first round playoff game, it would be considid their worst season in 8 yeeyahs.  Of course this kind of success is a given, what with such stah playahs like Logan Airport Ryan, Trey Flowizz and Kyle Van Who patrollin' the defense while TMFB is directin' the offense and signing slippahs like a boss!!

Yesterday was once again proof that to win in this league on a consistent basis, ya gotta be inconsistent.  Belichick, McDaniels and Patricia never run the same fahkin' game plan week to week.  Even when they plan to run the ball, they do it differently.  Against the Ravens top ranked run defense, they went LG Blount thunder against those big fukkers in the middle.  But against the Broncos weak run defense, they opted for the shiftiness of Little Dion up the middle, rendering Von Miller a spectatah.  Ya see... last year in the AFC Championship game, Brady was the leading rusher for the Pats with 13 yards.  In that game, he dropped back to pass 56 times and the Broncos got 17 QB hits on him.  Yesterday...  Brady only threw 31 times and was hit just 5 times.  Because the Pats coaching staff is way fahkin' smahtah than any other staff in the NFL.  That's just a fact, haters.  Live with it.

Even Gronkless, we knew the offense was still going to be elite.  But it's the defense that has stepped up it's game in a YOOOGE way the past four weeks.  The Rocket Scientist has his troops at the top of the league in points against, giving up just 16.6 points per game.  And regardless of the jiz that spews from the Felger and Mazzadouchebag radio show, points allowed per game is the ONLY defensive stat that matters.  Sure, they have the fourth best rush defense and just the 17th best pass defense.  But those stats are dictated by the game.  It is natural that the better teams give up more passing yards because their opponents are usually playing from behind and passing more.  Throw in the garbage yards while in prevent defense, it makes sense.  But as near as I can figure, the only defensive stat that leads to wins and losses is how many points you fukkin' give up.  And the Pats are the best at that.  Thus, the Pats have the best record in the league.  THAT AIN'T ROCKET SCIENCE!!

Oh, and the good news is that Gostkowski may have gotten over his yips.  He's made 16 of his last 17 field goals (was perfect yesterday) and has been perfect with extra points for 5 weeks.  Boy just might be saving his job here in the closing weeks.

It's Christmas time, ya pricks.  Time for a special yuletide victory dance...  everyone sing!

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Fahk The Ravens! It Was A Monday Night Patsgasm!!

Sorry I'm a day late and fistful of dollahs short, but I had two deadlines to meet yesterday...  Patriots recrap or my Twosday obligation to you loyal hahd ons who worship at the First Church of the Sacred Bosom.  Guess what I chose!

Anyhoo... we are humpin' back to Monday night's Patsgasm.  But before we get to the nut stomp, let's revisit the ESPN leadup to the game.  This was gonna be the game that was to expose the Pats as pansy beatin' frauds who have benefited from a schedule that is widely considered easier than a Kardashian at a rap concert.  They were not gonna be able to fahkin' run against the vaunted Ravens front line, so they would be forced to pass.  Gronkless, a hobbled Marty and now without Danny DLdola, TMFB would surely struggle in the passing game and spend his whole night running from the Terrell Ugly Tree Suggs and Elvis Has Left The Building Dumervil.  Not to mention....because of their recent past here, the Ravens are the only team that can waltz into the Razor unafraid.  Joe Flacco was on one of his torrid streaks and nobody is more dangerous than Joe Flacco when he's hot.  Except Tommy Muthafukkin Brady in December, ya assholes!!

More dangerous than the GOAT in December at home is the GOAT in December at home against a team he fukkin' hates!  If you needed any proof exactly how big this game was to Brady, go back and watch him tear into Lil Bro Julian for not finishing his route.  Watch him scream "LET'S GO" over and over again on the sidelines.  He wanted to beat Harbaugh and beat him badly.  He knows the Ravens and Harbaugh lit the fuse of Deflategate after their vaginas got all cramped up over eligible receivers not being eligible.  He knows Ugly Tree refuses to say his name.  And he knows the Ravens have beaten them twice in the playoffs.

So instead of the league's top rated defense dominating the game and circumcising the Pats offensive game plan, Brady and that increasingly stout offensive line torched the Purple Pussies for 500 yards.  Ugly Tree and Dumervil combined for TWO tackles.  Elvis really did leave the building.  How many times have we seen Hoodie's Pats completely neutralize the other team's best defensive players?  It's what they do.  All the time. Chris Hogan showed he was faster than at least three Ravens defensive backs.  And instead of Dangerous Joe Flacco, we saw the return of Joey Flaccid's noodle dick attack of 3 yard checkdowns to his running backs.

If I were in charge of game balls, I would give one to the bearded rocket scientist.  Matt Patricia designed a game plan that forced Flacco into making Kenneth fukkin' Dixon his primary target.  All night long, the Pats shifted pre-snap and kept switching up who would be rushing and who would be dropping into coverage.  Flacco was flustered to the point that he could only look 5 yards down field.  And the Ravens offensive line could never figure out who the fuk to block.  It is what led to Malcom Brown's safety in the first quarter.  Yes, you read it here first... it was the PATS defense that was better on Monday.  But then again, they didn't have to face a pissed off Brady.

Now for the downers... Cyrus Jones has 5 fumbles in 18 return attempts this season, losing three of them.  Belichick must like this kid because in no other world does Hoodie tolerate such poor ball protection without cutting bait.  How in the name of good sense does Jones continue getting opportunities?   The other downer....  Brady's interception.  That was a uniquely horrible decision by the GOAT.  Sure, he has had a few other endzone picks in his career.  Yes, he is human and can have the occasional shit his pants moment.  But I think you can count those moments on two hands.  And with over 8,000 passing attempts in his career, I'll take those odds any day.

Who wants to dance?