A brilliant piece from McSweeney’s that examines the trials and tribulations of the twelve days of X-mas.  Enjoy.

THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS.

BY COLIN NISSAN

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Day 1

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree. Such a thoughtful gift, she knows how much I love fruit. She also knows my building’s pretty strict about pets so the bird threw me a little. But he is a cute little guy.

- – - -

Day 2

On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me, two turtle doves. Wow, she’s really into the avian theme this year. Um, thank you? I guess I’ll just put them in the kitchen with the partridge and the pear tree, which suddenly seems a lot bigger than it did yesterday.

- – - -

Days 3 & 4

On the third and fourth days of Christmas, she gave me three French hens and four calling birds. Funny, I don’t remember telling her my dream was to one day open a chapter of the Audubon Society. Jesus. You know what would have been nice? Some birdseed. I’m out of saltines and things are starting to get weird in here.

- – - -

Day 5

On the fifth day of Christmas, she gave me five golden rings. See, now that’s a nice gift. A nice, practical gift. A little on the feminine side, but I’ll take it.

- – - -

Day 6

Six geese a-laying. Hmm, that’s so weird because I was just telling someone that I could use some MORE FUCKING BIRDS. Do you have any idea how much shit six geese generate in a single day? Literally, pounds. Pounds of green, grassy turds. And in case you’re curious, all six of them have been a-laying since they got here. There are no less than seventy-five enormous eggs in my apartment right now. And as a side note, I just tried to make an omelet out of one of them and almost ralphed. Very gamy.

- – - -

Day 7

Guess what I signed for this morning when the UPS guy rang my doorbell? Seven swans a-swimming. True story. So… no more baths for me, I guess. Thanks for that. These are terrible gifts! Terrible, confusing gifts. Do you know how big a fucking swan is? Or how mean those bastards are? Oh, and guess who swans don’t get along with? Geese, turtle doves, French hens, calling birds, and partridges. Glad you did your homework there. There’s more bird-on-bird violence going on right now than I care to mention.

- – - -

Day 8

I’d like to give you the benefit of the doubt on this one in case you ordered these eight maids a-milking online and there was some confusion, but just to clarify, there are eight middle-aged women wearing bonnets in my apartment right now. And they each brought a cow. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? They’re all here, in my STUDIO apartment, and judging by the size of their suitcases, they aren’t leaving anytime soon.

- – - -

Day 9

Big day today. Not only did I receive the unexpected gift of nine ladies dancing, I also got a nice little note from my landlord. He covered all kinds of stuff, but in a nutshell it was about excessive dancing, illegal livestock, unnatural amounts of bird feces, and me not living here anymore. Big day.

- – - -

Day 10

Ten lords a-fucking-leaping! Yes they are. Ten leotarded assholes are literally jumping around my apartment screaming “Wheeeeee!” every time their feet leave the goddamned ground! WHY?? Why are you doing this to me? You’re sick! I loved you so much and you destroyed it. You destroyed everything. Tensions in here are escalating faster than I could have imagined. The maids and dancers appear to have laid territorial claims in opposite corners of the apartment. They are not the same civilized ladies who arrived here a short time ago. They bear a darkness now. One of them stole my golden rings and I know just the one who did it. I’m waiting until nightfall and I will reclaim them through any means necessary. I’m beginning to fear something isn’t right with the birds, they’re watching me… conspiring… it’s just a matter of time.

- – - -

Days 11 & 12

These final days have come and gone in a bewildering fog. I remember drummers. Pipers. Lots of them. I haven’t slept or washed my body in quite some time. Food is scarce… the fighting, fierce. I killed a lord today! Snatched him right out of the air and killed him with my bare hands. Now he doesn’t leap anymore. I used his leotard as a net to trap one of the swans. She was delicious. Didn’t even cook the old gal. Ha! I made everyone gather around and watch—that’s what you do when you want to send a message. A very important message! This is my castle! Do you all hear me? Do you see what I’ve done? What I am capable of!! No more eye contact with the king, do you understand? Or I will end you! I will end you all right here and now!! Now one of you fetch me a goddamned pear. The king needs something sweet.

- – - -

Juniper surprised all of us this week by rolling over from her stomach to her back.  At one month of age.  Which, by infant developmental milestone charts, is akin to a child from the planet Krypton.

 

Couple in the fact that she did this on the very first day we started putting her on her stomach and we might as well all agree that she is the greatest baby in the history of humanity.  Probably all life in the universe.  People would pay to see her, right?  I’m banking on it, what with my new business venture: The Extraordinarily Stupendous Bryan Circus featuring the Exceptionally Astounding Phenomenal Rolling Baby!

 

It is with this momentous event that I fully understand what parenthood is.  It probably has something to do with the fact that I just used the word momentous to define an action most canines can perform.  Parenthood is going batshit crazy with pride for the most ridiculous of things your baby does.  Eating.  Having a bowel movement.  Burping.  Farting.  Keeping your eyes uncrossed.

 

 

 

And, oh the pride!  From my reaction, you’d have thought I just won the Nobel Prize for Awesomeness.  And I didn’t even do anything other than watch (and possibly mock her a little bit for puking first).  And my mother, who also was there to witness the first roll – she might as well have just won the lottery. 

 

And for those naysayers who claim it’s just a fluke, she’s done it nearly every time we’ve put her on the floor since.  So, suck on that, naysayer, saying your nays.   

 

You know, I’ve decided to embrace this.  By all means, I should feel personal pride.  We all know it was my superior genetic contribution that resulted in an infant with superhuman strength.  I just can’t wait for all her other superhuman powers to develop.  At that point, I think I’m supposed to move to a farm in Kansas.  I don’t know, I’m still reading up on this parent of a superhuman stuff.

 

 

PS – Rolling over and startling the world with her profoundly incredible awesominity wasn’t Juniper’s only milestone this week.  She saw her first hobos in the park.  Simply awesome, this child is.

“I have no shame.  Just look at what I’m wearing.”

 

[Watching Juniper move her hand in myriad, dexterous ways]

A: “Looks like she’s flashing gang signs.  Are you a Blood or a Crip, little one?”

B: “She’s a shark.”

A: ?

B: “She’s old school.”

 

“Beggars can’t be choosers.  Actually, I once met a beggar that was a chooser.  In Turkey.  When I was in high school.”

 

What’s a Turkism? Find out here.

“If I were a lawyer, I’d sue the English language.” -Burcu

Is there anything better than a child’s letter to God?

 

Yes.  A funny one.

 

Hit the link for more: Funny Dear God Notes

A Charlie Brown Ramadan

 

Snoopy’s Getting Fixed, Charlie Brown

 

It’s Commonwealth Day in Canada, Charlie Brown

 

Where Are Our Parents, Charlie Brown?

 

You’re a Staggering Failure, Charlie Brown

 

It’s the Grand Menorah, Charlie Brown

 

What’s Hepatitis, Charlie Brown?

 

Snoopy’s Schizophrenia Medication Isn’t Working, Charlie Brown

 

It’s Clinical Depression, Charlie Brown

I’m using WWoWW (like the dirty whore it is) to take the opportunity to highlight an extremely funny individual by the name of Avery Edison. 

 

Anyone who has ever discussed Twitter with me is already well familiar with my lowly opinion of it.  Even typing the word “twitter” or “tweet” fills me with uncontrollable rage and adjectives like narcissistic, pointless, self-absorbed, worthless (except maybe that instance when Iranian protesters used it to coordinate their election disapproval), colossal waste of time-y (sorry, had to make it an adjective). 

 

So says I.  The guy whose blog you’re reading.  But this isn’t about tea or kettles or color, so shut up.

 

Besides the mind-numbingly boring glimpses into the banal and mundane rituals of daily life that most often comprise tweets (I really don’t give a flying fuckabaloo if you’re at the dentist, or buying bread, or playing a video game), I think what bothers me is the trend towards greater and greater brevity.  The magical world of tubes that is the internet is filled with millions of billions of distractions all vying for our attention, but it saddens me that the trend has been to move towards briefer, and far less substantial or thoughtful, content.  It all translates to a dumbed down soundbite.  That turns my frown rightside down.

 

Also, maybe it feels like sad burning inside because I am overly verbose and lack an internal editor as far as text length goes.  Just a theory. 

 

So, imagine my shock when I actually visited someone’s Twitter feed and enjoyed it!  Why the shift in me?  Well, I think Avery Edison achieves something very special with her tweets – she melds her humor seemlessly with the 140 character limits, without sacrificing wit or insight.  A rare feat.  Hence, I’d like to highlight some of my favorites from her here.  Enjoy.

 

If you don’t think Obama deserves that Nobel, then you’ve never seen Sasha and Malia fight.

 

It’s really hard to say some things with a straight face. For instance, “honey, I’m having a stroke.”

 

“It’s A Small World, After All” is a pretty depressing song if you’re up on your overpopulation statistics.

 

Ugh. Toilet backed up. Called a plumber, but all he did was kill my turtle and eat all my flowers. His paycheck is in another castle.

 

I’m not a megalomaniac, because I’m better than that. Way, WAY better than that.

 

I really hate when people inappropriately and incorrectly use science terms. I guess it’s something I picked up by osmosis.

 

I’ve lost my sense of perspective. Still, it could worse. Or better.

 

Time spent debating carrot vs. stick is time you could be using to think of an excuse for the proctologist.

 

Want to have your cake and eat it too? BUY TWO CAKES.

 

Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings. And every time you have sex, this one angel gets his binoculars.

 

I know that you need to support the baby’s head or else it’ll flop back. But I also know that I really want some Pez.

 

Never judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes. Because then he can judge you too, THIEF.

 

Back in kindergarten I really had my work cut out for me. Seriously. Couldn’t figure out safety scissors. Teacher helped.

 

There are no stupid people, only stupid people. Wait, that doesn’t make sense — OH GOD I’M ONE OF THEM.

 

When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are. Because that doesn’t work.

 

 

For about 1,500 more, check out Avery Edison’s Twitter page here.

Couldn’t decide which one was cuter: the pass-out or the sleeping model pose.  So, you get both.

Yes.  That’s right.  You’re just that lucky.

If she keeps getting more adorable as she gets older, daddy’s going to have to get more gun able. 

 

“What Would Jesus Do…For a Klondike Bar?”

 

[Doing the sign of the cross]

“Father, son, coffee table, end chair.”

 

“How come I don’t get to eat your Jesus chips?”

[Communion wafer]

 

[After asking a long series of questions about what Easter is, how Jesus died, and what happened after.]

“So when did Jesus turn into a bunny?”

 

What’s a Turkism? Find out here.

“If I were a lawyer, I’d sue the English language.” -Burcu

Normally, I like to avoid publishing other people’s work here, but I couldn’t help but showcase a brilliant pirate-based list found over at McSweeneys written by Christopher Robinson.

Enjoy:

Captain Blackbeard’s College of Piracy
— Ye Olde Course Catalogue, Spring ‘10.

BY CHRISTOPHER ROBINSON

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ECON 212: Fluctuations in the Buillon market

ENGL 442: Post-structuralist Decay and the Hermeneutics of Land-lubbing

ENGL 515: Lawless Scallywags and Counter-hegemonic Narratives

LING 224: Sign and signifier: Chomsky on Arrrrr

LING 310: Semiotics of the Jolly Roger

MATH 348: Game Theory and the Albatross

MED 458: Extemporaneous Prosthetics: Pegs and Hooks

PHIL 360: Epistemology of Davy Jones Locker

PHIL 390: Dancing the Hempen Jig: The Ethics of Capital Punishment

PHYS 220: Directional Combustion and Projectile Motion

PLSC 216: Filthy Bilge Rats: the Aleatory Class System on the High Seas

REL 336: Yam Gods of the Barbary Coast

SOC 212: All Hands on Deck: a Marxist Approach to Piracy and Leadership

SOC 469: Captain Jack and Captain Jim: Heteronormativity and the Modern Pirate

SOC 740: A Post-feminist Approach to the Mayor’s Daughter

 

Click here for the direct link and to read other great McSweeneys lists.

We learn from experience that men never learn anything from experience.

-George Bernard Shaw