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Entries in Santa (10)


A Day In The Life Of Our Elf On The Shelf

Until a couple weeks ago I had no damn clue what an Elf on a Shelf even was.

Once I found out I figured, holy-leverage-over-the-kids’-awful-behavior-patterns-recently, it’s time for me to partake!

So, I ran out, bought the little shelf-bastard, and made it known “kids…Santa’s watching!!”

Then I kinda gave it no thought. Until a day ago when I noticed the little bastard wasn’t there anymore.

Instead, there was a note that read, “I can’t take it anymore…I…I just can’t!! Merry Christmas sickos!”

Scratching my head and trying to put the puzzle pieces together I noticed the dog chewing a tiny little book.

I immediately ran over and yelled, “DROP!!!”

Picking-up the drool-drenched book I immediately began to flip through it and quickly realized it was the Elf on the Shelf’s one day diary of his time in our house. In fact, he didn’t even make it a full day.

Here’s how it read:

Day 1. 5:13 a.m.

Dear Santa…did I really just see what I thought I saw. The dad just came downstairs, buck-naked, made a cup of coffee, got on the computer to announce he was going to go for a run then walked by me expelling some of the most horrific air ever!

Where are the happy children?

Day 1. 6:42 a.m.

“Drop, drop…DROP me damn it!!! He said ‘DROP!!’ Do what your master says and drop me!!!” That’s what I would have yelled at the dog if we were allowed to talk.

I’M NOT A PUPPET you stupid dog…..I’m an extension of Santa damn it!!!

Day 1 8:00 a.m.

OK, the boy’s gone to school and it’s just me and the daughter.

Day 1 8:11 a.m.

Elf on the Shelf does not get touched or dressed up for a tea party with Barbie!!!! Didn’t these rat-bastards read the book about me?!!! OK…sorry..I should not have spoken that way. I’m sorry Santa.

Day 1 10:42 a.m.

Awwww…the daughter has made me her “BFF.” She’s such a sweetie. Love little girls at this age.

Day 1 10:58 a.m.

I’m going to throw-up. Apparently the daughter picks random toy “best friends” to join her when going “boom boom” on the toilet.

How can something so tiny and innocent create smells so horrific?!!!?

Day 1 12:02 p.m.

Second kid’s gone to school. The two adults are working in their separate at-home offices. Dog is asleep. I’m so….so very exhausted.

This job seemed so much more glorious on the commercials and in the brochures.

Day 1 1:46 p.m.

Hey, very cool. Right on! The husband seems to be giving me a tour of the house! I shouldn’t have complained so quickly!

Day 1 1:48 p.m.

Hey, here’s the bedroom. Nice…they have a small, but pretty cool bedroom! I like it.

Day 1 1:49 p.m.

Wait!!! Wait!!! No!!!

The husband just told the wife, “hey, let’s see what Santa thinks of an afternoon quicky!”

Why are they doing this with me on the pillow next to them? Why…WHY!!!?

Day 1 1:53 p.m.

OK, that was sad. Really? Four minutes? Santa, I know what this guy wants for Christmas.

Day 1 2:01 p.m.

Do I look like a post-sex teddy bear to snuggle with? Oh you bad-breathed, bearded sicko…I want my mommy.

Day 1 2:21 p.m.

He finally woke up to shower and left me here on the bed and guess what? Yeah…the cat’s cleaning me like I’m some damn kitten.


Day 1 2:34 p.m.

I feel so dirty. All I want to do it strip naked and cry in a warm shower.

Day 1 3:11 p.m.

I think I passed out for a while. But now, I’m back on my shelf.

That was some horrific dream I just had.

Day 1 3:13 p.m.

Where in the hell is my left leg and why can’t I see out of my right eye? It wasn’t a dream was it!!! Oh my dear lord the dog is chewing on my detached leg. I think I’m going to be sick…

Day 1 4:20 p.m.

Hey, quick question.

What is a bowl and why would the husband be asking the wife if she thinks “the elf on the shelf could possibly work as a make-shift bowl?”

Day 1 4:21 p.m.

Just Googled “bowl” on the elf iPhone. I’m fucking outta here!!!!


And that’s it. That was all he wrote.

We’ll miss that little bastard. He was fun while we had him.

And hey, if you make it to the pole, tell the bearded fat man I want an iPhone.

Come on…I’ve been good this year…hook a brother up!!

Rock on Mr. Elf On The Shelf. We’ll always have your leg to remember you by.



This Oughta Help You Through The Holidays

If you’re anything like me, you experience a shit-ton of questions around the holiday time.

I know, I know…it’s only September. But you know what? Target already has its Halloween candy out and my kids are obsessively talking about what they’re going to wear for this coveted candy-filled nightmare of a holiday, so deal!

The holidays always bring a slew of questions from the little ankle biters that leave us scratching our heads, looking around the room for an escape trap, or diversions like “hey!!! Who wants a $5 bill?!!!”

So, since I love you all from the bottom of my heart, I thought I’d go ahead and tackle some of the tough questions you’re bound to get from a young excited child, and provide what I believe to be the best answer you could give if I were to be drunk, speaking truthfully and the worst parent on Earth.

These Q & As have been approved by the parental guidance committee of the great United States of America.

Q: Why is Santa so fat?

A: Because Santa eats the elves that are assholes.

Q: Why do the Pilgrims wear such funny hats?

A: Why are you wearing a douchey Izod t-shirt? Are you scared to be a clothing trend setter? Are you really my child, cause if so I’m very disappointed.

Q: What are you gonna wear for Halloween this year dad?

A: Well, if I get enough beers in her, your mother. But we know how those cards will fall, so I’m just gonna probably throw a sheet over my head, go to parties as a ghost and randomly bump into scantily-clad women for my shits and giggles.

Q: Why do we eat turkey at Thanksgiving?

A: The pilgrims and Indians originally had ice cream and cake. But then they finished and jointly decided they wanted every kid in the world to be miserable every fourth Thursday of November. So shut your pie-hole, eat and let daddy finish watching Dallas get their asses beat!

Q: If we’re at grandma’s house for Christmas how will Santa know where to deliver the presents.

A: He won’t. Now go to bed and cover your head with your pillow so I don’t have to listen to you cry.

Q: Why doesn’t Santa bring mommy and you presents?

A: The longer you live the worse life becomes. One day you’re opening presents and singing Christmas carols to strangers, the next day you’re steeling wi-fi from the next door neighbor while drinking Jack Daniels and cussing the electric company for turning your power off on Christmas Eve. Now open your damn present and get daddy some more ice for his drink.

Q: Daddy? Why does your stocking smell like poo?

A: Because your mother put dog shit in it.

Q: Did that man who you went into the garage with you for five minutes show you the smoke machine he plans on using for Halloween? Is that why the garage smells like that?

A: Yeah….yeah, that’s what it was. Now who’s got the munchies?

Q: When you were a kid did you used to get what you wanted for Christmas?

A: Yeah…cause I’d go to bed praying I’d wake-up to my dad passed out in a pool of puke under the tree surrounded by empties of Miller Lite and a stocking full of Lark cigarettes. Now run go get me another beer and stop asking so many damn questions.

I honestly hope these help you through the holidays. It’s a tough time! Money’s tight, everyone’s on edge and children’s heads are running rampant with questions about it all.

So, next time you hear that high-pitched voice start tossing out a holiday question that’s sure to have you looking for the next liquor store…know I’m here for you and always willing to help.



An Open Letter to Santa

Dear Fat Boy:

I’ve been mulling around in my head what to say and/or do to you, my man. I mean…back in the day, when I was a kid, I felt like we were brothers. Like we started some kick-ass fraternity and you were the cool older dude that could grow a beard, pound a beer, and still act all “hey baby…can I help in the kitchen?” when Mrs. Claus rolls on the scene.

Now…well, you’re kind of a little bitch. Last Christmas you gave me socks. Fucking SOCKS! After 146 days of not inhaling, not wearing mirrors on my shoe laces, removing the web cam from the wifey’s dressing area, and even buying her flowers once….I get socks.

And....I’ve taken my kids to see you three times. Two of the three times you got frustrated when I’m all, “hold on – let me get one with my phone for my Twitter peeps!!!” Screw you buddy…people wanna see the boy and girl sitting on your lap. Deal buddy. Actually they don’t. I secretly think they’re just hoping it’s Pink Ducky chillin on those kick-ass red pants of yours.

So listen…can we just start over? You’ve been a prick…I’ve been a bit moody, but underneath it all…I mean, we did at one point kinda have a spark right?

So if we’re cool…here’s what I’d really really love to find under my tree this year… I’m just sayin’…:

1)  I’m gonna need a pause button for the kids. Don’t act like you can’t pull this one off…I’ve seen it on Saved by the Bell…time can be stopped!!! Ask Zack Morris.

2)  Actually this one is more of a warning than a request. Let me catch you putting one…just one Snuggie under a tree and see what happens. I’ll start with Rudolph….think I’m playing? Try me. I’ve been to prison…actually I haven’t, but I watch TV!

3)  Can you bring a dinosaur back to life…just for one day? Damn that would be badass. Come on man…just like have it eat a tree, step on a car, and tear through a building or something cool for me to TwitPic.

4)  Ummm…lean in close on this one, OK? A little closer…(can you please, PLEASE, give the wifey something other than skin colored panties to wear? Dude…come on…you know what I mean…help a brother out…thanks man!)

5)  A job! Please…it’s not much I’m asking for…and you know I love you and didn’t mean to take those pictures of Mrs. Claus and put them on the web. I need work man!!

6)  You remember that whole “water into wine” thing? I mean…this is really supposed to be all about the birth of people’s savor…so ummm…I’ve written this business plan…could you just look it over. That’s it…no strings attached, just check it out and let’s talk.

7)  You know how people obsess over the whiteness of their teeth and how racist that shit really is? Well, I’m right there with you….so screw them…can you just fix this fucking tunnel in-between my two front teeth? Seriously…the older I get the more I whistle when I tell the boy to “stop!”

8)  Seriously…some of the elves haven’t been too pleased with the cutbacks this year….lack of knee pads, cleaning up after deer after “taco night,” stuff like that. Drop a cool “grand” on me and I’ll smooth it all over.

So in conclusion…you’ve been mean to me….but I still love ya, dinosaurs fuckin’ shit up would be awesome, a job, I’ve got the Mrs. on film, and water into wine sounds pretty spectacular right!!!??!




A Day With Pink Ducky Part Deux

A month ago, almost to the day, I pulled a good little plastic dude from the depths of depression and showed him one hell of a good day. Yep, Pink Ducky.

He was stuck in a real bad routine of sitting in a rotting, moldy bath-tub bag, alone, cold, depressed. So I showed him a good time!

Well, after posting pictures from his day on Twitter and this blog, Pink Ducky became a star. He got an endorsement deal from Jared Galleria of Expensive-Ass Jewelry and got paid!

I kinda lost track of the little guy cause he was so damn busy. Then, on Saturday I woke-up to the smell of waffles wafting through the air. Everyone in the house was asleep, so the first thing that came to mind was, “Oh shit, someone broke in my house to make waffles!” Thinking of family first, I grabbed a bat and walked downstairs holding the wifey in front of me for protection. And much to my glee I found Pink Ducky!!!

“You’ve been in a slump,

And feeling like a chump,

So I’m crankin’ out some waffles and here to say,

Today is gonna be YOU’RE day!!”

“Why the hell are you talking in rhyme’s Pink Ducky,” I asked?

“It’s kind of a long story,

But if you really wanna know the whole thing will be on Maury.”

“You were interviewed on the Maury Povich Show? Damn Pink Ducky, you’re a rock star!”

Anyway, the conversation continued…. But the bottom line was, the little bastard wanted to lift my spirits and enjoy a day together. So…we caught the first train to the city.

Then, he brought me to the Sears Tower.

Once we got up top he said, “Everything you see here can be yours if you try,

Damn..this is getting scary…we’re up pretty freakin’ high.”

After telling Pink Ducky the rhyming stuff was getting pretty damn old, we headed out for some grub at Ada’s Restaurant.

Then, we went to the Marshall Fields building (Macy’s) and wrote letters to Santa.

Not five damn minutes after Pink Ducky wrote his letter, Santa freakin’ delivered. That’s the luckiest Pink Ducky I’ve ever seen in my life.

Then, after dodging falling ice, having to deal with Pink Ducky having an “accident” cause the bathroom was broken, and buying him a pair of Crocs – the #2 ranked article of clothing on the list of things I can’t stand….#1 of course being the Snuggie – he decided he knew what my problem was.

“You know what’s wrong with you baby?

You’ve got to learn how to get down and sexified with your lady”

So we pounded a shitty PBR and headed home.

Then he whipped-out the guitar and showed me the art of serenading.

Took me on a tour of my wifey’s naughty drawer.

And showed me how a glass of red wine always helps get thing started.

But none of it helped. Pink Ducky failed. I tried to break it easy to him that I was still pretty depressed but he kept getting calls on his cell phone and said he had to run off to “a thing.”

In the end – it was kinda cool hanging out with the little fella again. And I do miss him. And I can’t freakin’ wait for the Maury show so I can find out why the hell he talks in rhymes.


Hey - Pass the Santa Eyedrops

My poor little sweet 5-year-old daughter has "The Pink Eye." There's a huge difference between pink eye and The Pink Eye. Pink eye is what adults get, or older kids who just roll with the punches. "The Pink Eye" is what cute little girls get and think the end of the world is crashing down around them when they have to have eyedrops put in.

Earlier this morning the daughter said to me, "Daddy, I know what Santa's gonna bring to me."

"And what's that little lady?"

"Santa eyedrops," she said.

"Really? Santa eyedrops?!"

Shortly after Twittering this awesome statement from my little princess, a kick-ass Twitter follower, @DuchessOfBlog wisely said I should capture her statement of magical Christmas eyedrops on tape. And I did. And here it is....

Santa Eye Drops from on Vimeo.

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