SPEAKING OF CHRISTMAS, barring thirsting gods (which is always a possibility with me...) I'm going fucking camping next week, all week.
Being reliably informed that I am still extremely obnoxious at a certain stage of inebriation, I'm stocking up on hooch in case I get stuck at a campsite with some fucking Norman Rockwell types that can't fuck off and spare the rest of us some lebensraum from their fucking love and togetherness bullshit.

Hope your little tykes are well adjusted parental units, because the minute I hear a Christmas carol out of you lot I'm going to go 0 to blackout ASAP and I'll be loosing a tirade of profanity, howls at the moon*, and other things that will make you all feel rather uncomfortable.
But while that's all nice, and don't get me wrong I'm stoked to take my first real vacay in a zillion years, I was feeling a certain je ne sais quoi about the whole endeavor, until today that is. I realized that Christmas is the giving season and I wasn't giving anyone anything**, so I concocted a rather petty scheme to shit all over someone's Christmas on my way out of town and afford them no recourse but leaving me straight to voice mail QQ messages I'll promptly delete when I return to civilization and turn my phone back on after a week. While it won't be my finest work by any means, or even my most vicious, I'm going to take a certain unrepeatable satisfaction from Operation Grinch.

*In all likelihood it will be performing the saxophone leitmotif from "Baker Street" instead, which again I'm reliably informed is one of my preferred fallbacks these days.
**Technically I did get someone something but I'm treating it as a birthday present for giving categorization purposes because it's for someone with a Christmas birthday.