Kids are dumb.

(except mine).

Who needs a little Jesus?

no, baby. no. shhhh...

Caption this photo

i'm posting already

I like Santa.

But not really.

While I'm hoping that Jeremy arrives in New York Friday with a red velvet suit and beard tucked into his suitcase, I still can't get past my general biases against Santa as a tool for manipulating American children and guilting their parents into buying them tons of crap they don't need.

Plus, kinky fetishes aside, Santa is frigging creepy.

I mean...



"Smile for the camera, sweetie, and I'll take you into my 'toyshop' for a cookie..."




Smile, goddamn it, or it gets the belt again!



"Come, children. Come sit in my 'lap'."



"Um, that's okay, Santa...I'll just squeeze in here next to you."



"How would you like to come back to The North Pole to live with me? My van--er--sled--is parked out back..."



Santa loves babies. Especially dead babies. That he has most likely killed.



"Santa's just going to rest his gigantic, wandering baseball-mit hands right here, little boy, mmm K?"



"Be a good child and get Santa a throat lozenge and another hit on the meth pipe, yes?"



I don't know what the fuck this is supposed to be. But it's terrifying.

The last thing Jeremy posted on this blog was a picture of a turkey's ass.

I think it's high time he started pulling his weight around here.

What could possibly be keeping him from contributing to our blog?

Here are some thoughts...



"Hmmmm...I'm worried I don't have anything funny to say..."



"I am busy. Doing stuff. With my nose. Like, picking it. And pressing it flat. And stuff."



"I'm just plain terrified, Kristin. TERRIFIED."

Let's tell him it'll be okay. And that he should come back. And that we miss him.
So very very much...