How I Feel About Santa Claus After Seven Blue Moons.

I don't know if y'all are aware of this but it's December.  You know what happens in December?  Yea you do.

Work Sponsored Christmas Parties.

So, Danielle is a Waitress and her Work Christmas party was this evening (Read: Open Bar).  

Now I myself have not been "a drinker" for quite some time.  I have some serious family issues and most of it stems from people deciding that it's ok to get lit and then hit everyone else.  Something about self-esteem or some other new age psycho babble bullshit.  I partied but I did it long ago and not to any legendary extent.  I mostly would just get shitty, kiss a guy on the face, slap him and laugh like a jack-ass.  

Yea, life of the bleeding party this one was.  

Anyways,  stuff makes me feel like shit so it's just better this way really.  

Two sad things though, one being that while I am a large dude I'm also a huge light weight when it comes to alcohol.  The other is that while I can be funny when I'm sober I'm hilarious when I'm drunk.  I know everyone says the same thing but I ain't no goddamn son of a bitch. 

You better think about it, baby.

Open bar means free beers.  I drank me some beers.  I developed a deep love for Blue Moon this evening.  

Oh Blue Moon, you are so goddamn tasty, what with your Orange slice and your smooth texture...

Ahem.

So on the way home we begin to discuss Santa Claus.  I don't know why.  I was inebriated after all.  Now Danielle's cousin Nicole was with us and I don't think she has ever had the pleasure of my idiot ass when i'm topped off.  Danielle starts to make fun of her ghetto ass Christmas tree which causes Nikki so retort with some jibber jabbber about Santa and Mrs. Claus statues standing on opposite ends of the tree.  You know, like they are fighting.  For some reason I decide to start in on the freaky sex life that they would have to have.  Dude spends every day with elves.  Think about it.  You know them elves be getting freaky.  Like midgets all hopped up on Goof Balls.  This leads into why the French don't they have any kids.  Is he sterile?  Is she?  Does he actually hate children but he's stuck doing this job like some kind of penance for sins past?  Why would she stay with him if he can't give her children?  I'll tell you why.  He's goddamn Santa Claus.  How is any other guy gonna compete with that?  Jesus could i'm sure but I don't think he and Santa are on good terms anyways.  Seriously though, what the hell would you talk about on a date?  

"Oh, i'm recently divorced.  My husband?  Oh, he's Santa Claus.  I don't want that to drag you down though.  I like that you're an Accountant".

Game Over you fat bastard.

Maybe he's like Zeus and just knocks up chicks all over the world every year on Christmas.  Think about it.  They're both old.  They both have a penchant for serious Bearding.  They're both generous with gifts. 

I bet they shop at the same stores.  They're simpatico.

Sandworms man.  You know I hate 'em.

Meh, as long as he brings me an XBox and a Northface jacket I don't give a shit what he does.  Or who.

Jingle all the way, you son of a bitch...and to all a good night.