My Granny is a doe-eyed Christmas freakazoid. She does Christmas like no other person I know. Her tree has so many ornaments, the needles up and leave for the bar. ‘No room on the tree? Let’s go boys!’
The house is covered with fake snow on every surface, little chipmunks with red scarves, playing in the twinkling LEDs and silver glitter, stuffed snowmen in nooks and red ribbons wound through the staircase.
The likeness of Kris Kringle is everywhere too…pot holders, hand towels, his rosy grin is all over the house.
Imagine how crushed Granny would be if she knew how Santa funds this farce he calls Christmas…
Yes folks, it’s true.
He moonlights as a seahorse.
That’s about as messed up as two pilgrims riding a turkey, huh?
No wonder this angel looks so squeamish:
Course I can’t tell if it’s that or her freaky-deaky wings, or the fact that someone lobbed off her feet and gave her a bellgina.
November 9th, 2008 at 9:34 pm
Well ring-a-ding my bellgina. I guess we’d know when the Christmas angel “arrived” (check the thesaurus)