Christmas Shopping is Gay

Christmas sucks...okay, not really.  I fucking love Christmas.  I love Christmas songs, and I love presents, and I love the lights, and snow, and DINNER, and PIE OMG PIE I LOVE PIE, and the fact that my BIRTHDAY IS ALMOST HERE, and the spirit of giving.  Hell, I even love the Christmas Eve service, and I'm not exactly the greatest Christian out there. ;D  Jesus was born so that Santa would exist and creep around my house and give me toys and eat all of my food.  And everyone who has an issue about the commercialization of this holiday can stick a dick in their mouth and then go buy me a present.  DON'T CARE.  FUCK OFF.

What really sucks about Christmas is shopping. I hate everything about exchanging gifts, other than the fact that I get free shit.  Free shit is awesome and everyone should send me piles and piles of it. ALL OF YOUR RICHES ARE MINE!!!

This is a really great segue into a side-story how I think being a gold digger is an excellent profession and totally legitimate.  Old people are really gross, so sleeping with them must be the ULTIMATE act of nastiness. Being with an old person is basically like being a high-profile, short-term prostitute and then never having to work again for the rest of your ridiculously rich life.  It's a fantastic investment.  Life goal of mine?  Maybe.  Just have to get over two of my biggest fears: old people and ugly people.

I can do that, right?  Just have to make sure their mansion doesn't smell like a nursing home before moving in.

What I can't do is stop freaking out when I'm shopping for other people.  I don't understand why we don't just give each other money or something.  I'm always scared that I've not spent enough money on someone, that their present is more expensive and therefore I'm an asshole.  I stress from the moment that I pick out what I'm getting them about it.  It's constantly on my mind.  "This book cost me $10!  What if Kelly spent $15 on my present?!  OMG I'M SUCH A DICK WHAT IS WRONG WITH MEEEE!"

Of course, it also works in the other way.  If I spent a fuckton of money buying someone something that they love and treasure and they buy me a sock, I am going to hate them for the next year or so.  I just can't help it!  I'm very conscious of where my money goes and HOW MUCH COMES TO ME.

SO IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO FREAK OUT FOR THE REST OF THE CHRISTMAS SEASON, YOU SHOULD LET ME KNOW WHAT THE APPROXIMATE VALUE OF YOUR PRESENT FOR ME IS OKAY WHORES?  GOOD.

And as always keep in mind that puppies are worth more than anything else.

Anything.

But Lady Gaga comes close!

Cuteness Overload

I have this friend named Heather.  She's kind of a bitch, which is probably because she's French.  I'm not English so I can forgive her that...however, what I cannot forgive is her never-ending need to send me into cuteness overload.  What's that?  Think epilepsy plus anaphylactic shock with a little bit of angry black woman all shoved into your forehead trying to get out at the same time but it can't because it's just imaginary but it REALLY FUCKING WANTS TO.

Remember that.

I'm going to fucking steal her dog.  The first thing that I want to see when I wake up in the late afternoon is a pillow on top of my face preventing me from being alert enough to roll out of bed and die my way to the bathroom (where I then de-fug myself--the de-fugging process is important and everyone should have one.  And at this point, I'm really thinking I should rename this post "I hate ugly people."  Whatever.).  What I don't want to see is CUTEXPLOSION!

His name is Dylan and he is the best dog ever the end.  It doesn't even matter what he's doing.  He could be...

Chewing on a bone...

Swimming in a kiddie pool...

Sleeping...

Or really doing absolutely nothing at all, and my cute sense fucking overloads and crashes and kills me because I can't pick him up and put him in my pocket and carry him around with me everywhere I go.  Sometimes, cuteness overload induces spontaneous violent outbursts.  For example.

He's dressed up for Halloween.  This picture makes me want to do three different things at once:

1. Hug him until his little bones are ALL BROKEN.
2. Find and purchase a hot dog puppy of my own.
3. Slaughter mass amounts of babies just to make the cute go away. 

But I can't do any of these things.  Nope.  Dylan the Superdog lives too far away to hug to death, I live in a dumbass fucking appartment that doesn't allow pets unless you pay them 38947234r5238===D~~~~ dollars a day because you know, dogs shit on ceilings and cause irreparable damage, and killing babies would get me sent to jail.

I keep trying to get my female friends to make me some black market babies to kill (or sell for booze money) but they won't do it.  Being pregnant is the best birth control method out there.  NO PERIOD FOR NINE MONTHS.  And I don't care how many recreational drugs you do while that hell on wheels is inside of you because it's dying the moment it makes a whiny baby bitchfit cry anyway...unless it's got downs.  :(  Then I'll be too overwhelmed with cute to move and the vicious cycle will start all over again.

I'm too pretty to go to jail.  And while I like buttsecks as much as all the other kids, I don't want it from nasty hairy old men or whoever lives in prison.  Also there are TOO MANY UGLIES in prison, if what I see on TV is any indication.

And now my faggity haggity, Kelly, has a cute dog, too, and she's dressing it up in hoodies and shit and I just cannot HANDLE this nonsense.  I AM THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO HAVE NICE THINGS.  People need to learn this. -.-;

So what's the moral of this story?

Mail me your pets.  They love me more anyway.

ALSO: Since I feel the need to justify naming my blog after a random comment in an MSN conversation - your dog is not a child...therefore it is adorable and doesn't deserve to die.  Also I DESERVE TO HAVE IT.  While you deserve ugly baby spawn screaming and crying and pooping and sucking away all of your money for the rest of your life until it kills you to get its inheritance so it can support its World of Warcraft addiction.