Holiday Thought

If you got a Snuggie for Christmas, and if you got a Forever Lazy for Boxing Day, you could put them both on at the same time and be a Turducken of happiness.

Dogs Like Christmas, Too.

Christmas dog starts things in focus with new Christmas toy:

But he gets blurry:

Blurrier:

Until finally he's just a festive dog smudge:

Merry Christmas!

Newsletter

North Korean leader Kim Jong Il is dead. Let this be a warning to all of you who use too much hairspray in the morning.

"We are the 99 percent" has been chosen as the year's top quote. In a close second, "Get out of my way, lady, that flat screen T.V. is mine!"

The Packers' perfect season has come to an end. That's it -- I'm taking my Aaron Rodgers doll out of the manger.

The National Menorah has been lit. I guess the warm glow of Congress wasn't quite doing it.

"We Bought a Zoo" is doing okay at the box office. Michael Jackson buys a zoo and it's weird, but Matt Damon buys one and we're totally into it.

The population of the U.S. is growing at its slowest rate since 1940. It'd be even lower if it weren't for so many hot tubs in New Jersey.

Amazing. Sort of.

I happen to be really good at catching things that I've knocked off of something or dropped or by some other means clumsily moved from its intended location. You know, like, drop the soap in the shower, catch it before it hits the mildew. Slide a glass off the counter, catch it before it hits drunk Levi on the floor. Just now I knocked a shot glass (no comment) off the bar and caught it in the most amazing way -- between my knees, bitches.

But, as punishment for being so awesome, I knocked my knee on this bracket.

I'll bet God doesn't make Tim Tebow knock his knee on a bracket for accidentally doing something awesome.

Two Very Important Questions

Can a vegan eat a Venus Flytrap?

If you give a terminally ill child a gift, is it okay to give her half a diary?

Newsletter

A UFO was spotted hovering over Russian protesters. The weirdest part was it was a UFO inside of a UFO inside of a UFO inside of a UFO.

An ex Miss USA has been arrested on drunk driving charges. She totally faltered when the cop asked her to recite her plans for world peace backwards.

Christmas is getting closer. And I still haven't found the tent mom wanted to help her Occupy Wall Street with.

A suburban Detroit man said letting his 9-year-old daughter drive him around after he had been drinking was a bad idea. On a positive note, his daughter did get him to soccer practice on time.

My Christmas tree is looking good. It looks so good, it's complained to me three times already that Herman Cain's put his hand up its skirt.

A woman has left her $12 million fortune to her cat. Goodbye Fancy Feast, hello Taco Bell.

I'm in the holiday spirit. The stockings are up, the lights are shining, the no adultery pledges are signed.

A record number of Americans are unmarried. We've finally figured out that it's just as easy getting old and fat on our own.

Time magazine's person of the year is the protester. In a close second, the Forever Lazy lounge sack.

A federal safety board called for a nationwide ban on the use of cell phones and text messaging devices while driving. I guess it might be back to the good old fashioned method of seeing where you're going.

The malls are really starting to slash prices for the holidays. For instance, just today I got a parking space for less than fifty bucks.

Howard Stern will be an "America's Got Talent" judge. Howard's the only judge who won't be able to tell if he likes a contestant until she sits on his lap.

The Iraq war is over. But, of course, George W. Bush had that giant banner up on his house years ago.

Lindsay Lohan was praised by the judge during her day in court this week. It's the first time Lindsay's been praised while also wearing a shirt.

NYC

New York City is a good place. Especially if you like rubbing up against strangers. Especially, especially if you like rubbing up against strangers dressed as Santa.

It's also a good place if you own a bicycle with lots of extra Christmas tree storage.

And it's a good place for sunlight to burst through tunnels on an elevated garden stroll.

It's a good place to find your husband's nickname on a bar. This is Williamsburg Levi (or Leevee [or Levee]) without his bodysuit and fur vest*.

* http://halloweenorwilliamsburg.tumblr.com/

It's a good place if you're a dog walker because sometimes it rains cats and dogs. Think of all the dogs you could just round up on a day like this. Then you'd simply attach at least fourteen of them to your fanny pack and go for a leisurely stroll.

It's a good place for an umbrella. Our friend lent us one with a ten-foot diameter. All of those other suckers only had like three feet.

It's a good place to meet Alan Rickman after a show and shake his hand. Then not sleep all night because you shook Alan Rickman's hand. I'll have to shake his hand again some day because the first time I forgot to hold on.

Beware, though. If you buy a snow globe in New York City, you're out of motherfucking luck. Unless, I suppose, that snow globe is filled with breast milk. And you thought you'd never figure out what to get your family members for the holidays.

Let's Just Be Clear

When you help your mom decorate her tree, you get to be at the very top of it.

Unwelcome Surprise

Last night I had a terribly detailed dream in which a young man had fallen madly in love with me. He wanted to take me out to dinner, he wanted to hold my hand, he wanted to show me a mountain into which his face had been carved, and he was a freaking Jonas Brother. I don't even know who the Jonas Brothers are, but one of them made it past the large black man I keep at the front door of my subconscious. And man, is that big black man pissed, 'cause...a Jonas Brother? They are not allowed inside my super awesome dream club. Bill Cosby riding in a pudding-powered rocket car? Yep. Twelve-armed, blue-toned Levi in lederhosen and cowboy boots? Uh-huh. An inside out polar bear named Linus who eats only bacon and members of Congress? Yessiree. But a Jonas Brother? Sorry, bud. Back of the line.

Newsletter

Kourtney Kardashian is expecting her second baby. That's a shame, especially since on Thanksgiving I gave thanks for there being a limited number of Kardashians.

A new survey finds that seniors who are sexually active are happiest. Gosh, I always thought old people didn't want anybody touching their lawn.

A group of scientists in California has created a new material that is 100 times lighter than Styrofoam. It's light, but it's still not as light as a presidential campaign promise.

How are you going to keep warm this winter? Will you sit by the fire with some hot cocoa? Or will you just snuggle up to a creepy college coach?

A Hooters waitress was brought into a special needs school in Florida as a guest speaker. You know the three R's -- Reading, Writing and Boobies.

Michele Bachmann called Newt Gingrich liberal. This after Newt let her pay for his abortion.

One in five Americans is economically insecure. While the other four have those fancy, extra sturdy cardboard boxes to sleep in at night.

According to a poll, more Americans are becoming confident in the economy. So confident, most Americans are planning to buy not one, but two Pepper Spray Me Elmos for Christmas.

Reasons To Rip Your Couch Apart

You may remember the animal we've invited to live inside of our home. His name is Thelonious.

Thelonious likes mud.

Thelonious likes a good run.

But most of all Thelonious loves the taste of a good piece of furniture, especially if it's coated in succulent, expensive leather.

I tried to sell the couch and was pointedly mocked by a craigslister who was doing some furniture shopping before heading out to murder his next victim. I tried to give it away. No one wanted it. We set the couch out in our driveway for a week. It did not miraculously disappear (but it did help us blend in with the neighbors). So, at the will of suburban pride, Levi decided to dismantle the thing so we could at least have a bonfire.

Step One: Drag couch to back porch. Say goodbye.

Step Two: Skin the couch. Begin working on next Halloween's Hannibal Lecter costume.

Step Three: Keep skinning.

Step Four: Seek approval of laser-eyed beast.

Step Five: Stare in wonder and awe at the thing you, at one time, paid lots of money for.

Step Six: Chase laser-eyed beast before he destroys the world with his foam mallet.

Step Seven: Warm up iPod that you lost a year ago in the couch cushions.

Pink Friday

The mall is a dangerous place to be on Black Friday -- put a million people who spent a whole Thanksgiving day with family into one place, and you've got a million bloated, crabby people in one place. And amidst these million people lurks a savage creature -- the Pink Monster. The Pink Monster comes in many shapes and sizes and uses a variety of threatening defensive techniques.

This one will bean you with couture:

This one will put you in a headlock and give you a holiday noogie.

So be careful out there in the land of Wetzel's Pretzels and two-for-one glitter panties. And remember -- a stiff palm to the breast meat, or a swift kick in the jean shorts will stop a Pink Monster in her tracks.

I'm Thankful for Helicopter Hats

Family photos are the worst. You have to mill around in front of the stupid portrait studio while you wait for your appointment, which was an hour ago, while a bunch of crabby families and their crabby babies dressed up in cutesy holiday fare that makes them look like Santa's underage workers made a prison break and took a real wrong turn at JC Penney's shuffle about while they reconsider their stance on abortion. Then you have sit in a million fake-looking poses in front of fake-looking backgrounds with fake-looking props (styrofoam snowballs?) with your whole fake-looking family (did you really think that boob job would fly, mom?). THEN you have to PAY for it all.

Family photos are the worst. Unless this happens:

Want a Food?

Newsletter

Pamela Anderson will play the Virgin Mary in an upcoming T.V. special. Let's just hope, while they're in the stable, the wise men don't accidentally try to milk her.

Two Texas women have been charged with buying and selling a baby. Can you blame them for wanting to beat the Christmas rush?

Brad Pitt says he will retire from acting in three years. Sounds like Brad's finally saved up for that second home.

I think I'll do a little bit of protesting on Thanksgiving this week. First I'm going to occupy the dinner table, then I'm going to occupy the couch.

Kim Kardashian will come out of solitude for a New Year's Eve party. Two months in a divorce Snuggie will do that to a girl.

Herman Cain had an embarrassing moment Tuesday. But he's okay with it since it was the first embarrassing moment he's had in a while that didn't end with a woman slapping his hand away.

Penn State coach Jerry Sandusky is looking guiltier and guiltier. First we find out he had young boys stay over at his house, now police have found a sparkly glove in the guy's closet.

Thelonious Mump

Last week Thelonious got into something, but probably one of my mom's geraniums. Whatever is was, it gave him a bunch of little bumps all over his body. Then a big bump on his lip. Then it made his snout swell up, forcing me and Levi to call him "Thelonious Mump". Eventually T de-puffed like a used-up Macy's Day Parade balloon, but wow.

Speaking of dogs getting into things...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plH5yXwPSW4

Casa Boni...ta! Casa Boni...ta!

We went there -- Denver's premier not-Mexican food Mexican food carnival. And, boy was it as Casa Bonita-y as ever. I spent all of Thursday poofing out these sort of yellowish, refried farts, desperately hoping that I wasn't ruining the pants I was wearing. My stomach rumbled for a full 40 hours. And, halleluja! Today was the day of the glorious Casa Bonita turd, which is just like any other turd, only it's wearing a sombrero made out of Velveeta. And thank goodness for that turd, you know? Because I was running low on Christmas card ideas.

That's the deluxe chicken dinner working its way through me. It was $13.79, toilet paper not included.

Are you a sheltered whitey who doesn't know what an enchilada is, which forces you to carry around a resentful and unnecessary fear of it and is also making you consider voting for Michele Bachmann? Or do you just want some goddamned fried American food already? Casa Bonita has thought ahead:

How about some Cielito Lindo to help wash down that last bite?

The mariachis were pretty good. It's nice when something shows up at your table and just plays music, as opposed to when something shows up at your table, plays music, acts in a short skit, then dives off of a paper mache cliff. But where else can you go in Denver where you can dine in the presence of pubescent cliff divers and be within four minutes walking distance of a crack house, and within thirty seconds walking distance of Black Bart's E. coli-smothered hideout?

Black Bart's Hideout is where you go to vomit after eating your weight in sopaipillas.

We looked.

Thanks, Casa Bonita, for the memories, for the explosive diarrhea.

Happens To Everyone

Newsletter

The Toronto Zoo is separating a pair of gay penguins. Maybe they're not gay. Maybe they're just Canadian.

Dippin' Dots ice cream has filed for bankruptcy. But don't worry -- they've got a guy working on ice cream of the even more distant future.

Did you see the GOP debate Wednesday night? Rick Perry thought he had the worst moment of the night, but it turns out later on Herman Cain accidentally put his hand up moderator John Harwood's skirt.

Have you seen "Puss in Boots"? Yeah, I haven't seen Kris Humphries, either.

A python in Florida swallowed an adult deer whole. The good news is the deer and the python didn't spend twenty million dollars on a wedding before things went sour.

Kim Kardashian's joining the protests. Occupy divorce court!

The 520 day-long Mars crew simulation hatch is being opened today. The only question is was it a Mars crew simulation, or was it all part of a Febreeze commercial.

One of John Lennon's teeth sold for $31,000 at auction. Would you believe that molar had the same haircut as the rest of the band?

A dress worn by Lady Gaga is up for auction. It comes with a picture, an autograph, and a bottle of A-1 sauce.

Lindsay Lohan was released after serving only a few hours of her 30 day sentence at a Los Angeles county jail. You put your right arm in, you put your right arm out, you put your right arm in, and you shake it all about.

The Duggar family is expecting its 20th child. The family says they "don't know how it happens". Which is probably the best argument against homeschooling yet.

A model wore 30-pound wings during the Victoria's Secret fashion show. That sounds heavy, but the wings actually ended up balancing her out.

You'll Always Be My Number Five

"You'll always be my number five, baby." That's what Levi just said to me. Which would be truly disconcerting in that whose-underpants-are-those-stuck-to-your-snowpants (usually just his, but you know what I mean) kind of way if I didn't know that being his number five means I'm number five on his speed dial. Because the number five is right in the middle of the key pad (if you don't count zero, which is a real number, but a sad, weird one who's almost definitely sitting at its own table down there at the bottom of the keypad because it's allergic to peanut butter or wears the same t-shirt every day or humps the tire swing at recess), and he assigned number five to me because he wants me at the center of everything. Which I really like. Here's to five.

What Are We Washing Our Birth Control Down With Today?

Worst Line Evar

This is years old, but I was just eating some Halloween candy that I found on the street, which is a bad move, and it being a bad move, I was reminded of a moment when I was in high school and utilizing one of the public library's computers, which are used mostly for porn, but sometimes for boob-free research. The man using the computer next to me was wearing a neck brace and appeared to have a broken arm. He leaned over in the weird way people wearing neck braces lean over -- that is, mostly with his eyeballs -- and asked if I could unbutton the top button on his shirt. The naive little dumpling that I was, I thought, sure, I can help a guy with a fake broken arm and a fake broken neck. Lean over here, creepy guy, and allow me to fulfill your fantasy. And I did. And it was weird. And that was the worst line ever.

The Morning After

Kids on Halloween are like the Rolling Stones in an expensive hotel room -- they eat a shit ton of sugar then put their hands in the air and just don't care. Then they eat another shit ton of sugar, throw a few armchairs at the wall, toss the television off the balcony and empty out the mini bar like an angry badger. In just three short blocks yesterday I found one tattered pillowcase, approximately twenty empty wrappers strewn about like used-up groupies, and this:

A Laffy Taffy, a Baby Ruth (I understand why you might leave this behind), a Crunch Bar, Skittles, Peanut M&M's, two KitKats, and a euro. Seriously. Which house is handing out the European cash? Because I make a wicked Angela Merkel zombie, and I'll happily show up on your doorstep next year.

The 'Hood

After about a year and a half, I've finally found the perfect metaphor to describe our neighborhood. Have you ever been to a Ross store? Imagine: you're one of three white people in the whole place -- one has a day-old glob of Hostess fruit pie stuck in her teeth while she gophers her way through a mound of clearance throw pillows, and the other one's wearing a crispy Dolly Parton wig, a pair of knee-high leopard-print high heeled tramp boots and an entire Indian nation's worth of turquoise on her eyelids. There are clothes all over the floor, and unattended children burst unexpectedly from thick bushes of discount tube tops. The panels overhead are yellow and musty and rotting through so that the ceiling chihuahuas can escape, there's a trampoline in every department, and the poorly-maintained shopping carts and their twenty-inch rims are parked askew out front in a sea of empty blue drink bottles. That's exactly it, but our neighborhood doesn't have a spikey-haired lesbian wearing a "loss prevention" vest peeking in departing bags as they cross Colfax.

Thanks, Joe!

For modeling this hot little number...

You're the best!