drieux

In the vein of the last post, let's keep going on the same topic: Christmas Specials. For instance, which are my favorites? I know you care, because otherwise I wouldn't spend so much time typing meandering, self-serving nonsense onto the internet as though my opinion meant more than a random hunk of dog shit that even the most crack-addled hobo wouldn't eat.
So, here are a list of my favorites. This changes each and every year, since my preferences alter depending on the year and what's ...

As the years drag on and you realize that there is no Santa, that the holiday season is primarily about commerce and drinking and that each Christmas becomes a sad death-march through time, watching yourself and your loved ones become older, flabbier and inexorably more obsolete with each passing day, you gotta find the fun parts.
For me, it's the specials. I love Christmas specials. I'm not talking about a Very Special Episode of "According to Jim" in which the show has 44 minutes instead ...

It happens to everybody, and at some point you find yourself in some tepid rathole, pants around your ankles and sitting on a bowl that hasn't been clean since Madonna was relevant. You think back on what it was you ate or drank that forced you into this low position and quietly hate yourself as you push out that hatred from your hindquarters.
But as I said, it happens to everybody. But which is the worst - the absolute worst - place to drop a deuce? A few suggestions, if I may.
...

Let's say you're a 20-year-old trade-school dropout. You're a huge fan of heavy metal, drinking beer, partying hard with your "bro-hams" and "gettin' some pussy." You're in your pickup truck and feeling lonely while heading to a job interview at Burger King in your best Nickelback t-shirt.
Or let's say you're a 24-year-old unemployed mother of three, and you're in the car shuttling between the free clinic and the WIC office before you have to pick up one of your kids to take them to a different ...