'Twas The Night Before Christmas, And... Holy Crap, it's the night before Christmas! I Haven't Even Started My Post Yet!

It's Christmas Eve Eve, and I have yet to start on the post I promised the other sins I would complete by Christmas Eve. I wouldn't do it at all but they have some dirt on me, literally. I don't want to talk about it, but suffice it to say, it involves a certain cardinal sin coming in after hours and licking all the Jack Daniels off of the floor of a prominent Country and Western Honky Tonk. (MMMMM, floor whiskey.) But, I don't want to say too much.
   My original idea was to answer the questions in a yes or no format, but again, the other sins were wise to me and told me they would give my address to the Jehovah's Witnesses if I did, ensuring I never got another full afternoon's nap again. Then I was going to have my secretary type up a form letter, but apparently typewriters are no longer in vogue AND my secretary died sometime in the seventies, due to a tragic glue sniffing incident. (I had no idea. Did you know you were suposed to sniff the fumes, and not the actual glue? Otherwise your breathing passages become somewhat, entirely clogged, and it makes it difficult for one to, you know, live.) Left with no other choice, I'll just answer your damn questions. Bring it. 

Addman asks: Just how drunk is too drunk for a job interview? 

Are you kidding? There is no such thing. If you can stand and/or talk, they should be lucky to have you. I mean how many people didn't even bother to show up for the interview at all? LIke billions! But you cared enough about that job to show up, even though you were in the middle of setting the world record of tossing back beer milkshakes. You are the backbone of the worldwide workforce my friend, don't change just because of their insipid random rules. Don't you ever change. Stay golden.

Chiz asks: I opened a box of animal crackers, and all the animals were sheep! Should I compose a letter of complaint or accept the fact that I am a powerless peon?

Hmmm, this is quite the conundrum you have set before me. First I would say that your major problem lays in the fact that you were trying to gain sustenance by eating food. I mean who does that? What are you Gluttony?! Liquid diets are where it's at. Secondly and less importantly, letters of complaint take effort. Effort, by it's very nature takes effort, and nobody wants that. Instead, why don't you pour beer on the offending crackers, mush them up into a thin paste and drink them? Problem solved. Also you could drink more, drinking gives you courage. And then you won't feel so powerless.

Chuck asks: Having no desire to spend any more time than necessary washing clothes, how many stains are appropriate to have on ones shirt and still go out in public...before washing said shirt (or simply throwing it away)? 

There isn't an exact number, it's more of a general guideline. First off, If you exclusively frequent poorly lit dive bars, nobody notices the appearance of your clothes. Another thing you might try is a shower. If you shower with your clothes on, you don't have to worry about the cleaning thing. Lastly, when the shirt begins to fall off, perhaps it is time to get a new one. Or you can use duct tape and spray paint to repair it.

Inmate 8675309 asks: I'm looking to impress the ladies. Which face tattoo says: "I'm a real catch?"

I would suggest something in a Sinner motif. Classy women love that. Or perhaps an understated Thug life tattoo. You're sure to attract a rich attractive woman that way. You know how they say opposites attract.



Anonymous asks: Isn't Sloth the sin of laziness? How in the world did you get roped into answering seven questions in one week? That's more work than you've done in a millennia.

First off, that's more than one question. Secondly, I already answered part of this. Thirdly, Yes. I am all about laziness. Fourthly, I KNOW! Jeez! Seven is SO many. It's more than a six pack. Which isn't a lot in beer terms, but is a lot in work terms. Next time my turn comes up, I'm gonna hire Juan from my landscape service to answer my questions.

Hubert Hugger asks: I ride my bicycle to work. What is the best way to alert my co-workers to how much better than I am to them in every possible way?

Do you already wear your pants leg taped up for most of the day? Display your helmet prominently on your desk? Refer to cars as coffins? Prattle on about carbon footprints? Microwave your fish in the office microwave and then complain about the "chemically smell" of Cheetos? I'd say you've done about all you can. The only thing left would be to ride into the path of a speeding Hummer in a a highly symbolic ritual suicide. That'll show 'em how superior you really are.

Delores Dunkin asks: Why won't anybody address the real tragedy of Global Warming? Not shrinking polar ice caps; shrinking pants. I can't close the button on favorite bell bottom corduroy hip huggers from college anymore.

That is a tragedy. You're right; I'm sure that global warming is causing your pants to not close. It most certainly has nothing to do with the fact that you shove cookies in your pie hole like some obscene reverse slot machine jackpot. Or that without you McDonalds would've only served 98 billion instead of 99. (Don't forget the large DIet Coke with that.) Or that even your salads are deep fried. Don't worry everybody else is also being affected by "global warming" and your condition is less noticeable every year.


So there you go. Consider it brung. I'm done. That was WAY too much work and now I'm going to have a few "pops" and take a nap. Until next time.