I'm too sleepy and drunk to be typing a diary entry right now, but who wants to make something out of it? Huh?

That's what I thought.

Randomness cuz "segue" is a bad word tonight.

Tofurky Kielbasa is vile and stole my Christmas. My mother's pierogi, on the other hand, is delicious. Christmas was saved. Huzzah.

I can't find my fucking Feel the Cheer, Goddamnit compilation so no Christmas in Compton this year. I am sad. BUT! I bookmarked the Amazon page for the Wham! Last Christmas single and George Michael looking so fucking happy and jolly in his Santa hat makes me happy. I will own this and will gaily shank anyone who tries to get in my way.

For the tenth year in a row, I listened to William S. Burroughs' The Priest They Called Him while getting hammered. If that doesn't spell CHEER, than I don't know what does.

I'm worried. Does it make me a bad person cuz I wrapped all my gifts with newspaper and duct tape and cut up plastic bags? They look nice, I swear! It's just...oh, I don't know.

I think I fucked up my knee chasing the puppy around the squirrel cage tonight after drinking a bit too much wine.

I've spent more time playing DOOM today than anything else in the whole world. Christmas equals punching repto-demon-things into blood pudding. Woo.

Happy fucking holidays.

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