Tag Archives: holidays

Top Ten Things to Do on Valentine’s Day If You are Single

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Hey 3.5 readers.

VGRF here.

Ahh, Valentine’s Day.  That day of the year where couples celebrate their love, and single people wallow in their misery.

Have you got no sweetie to canoodle with on this February 14?  No worries.  From BQB HQ, now VGRF HQ, in fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Things You Can Do on Valentine’s Day If You Are Single:

#10 – Cry

It’s natural.  It’s healthy.  It pushes toxins out of your system.  Have a ball while having a ball.  Personally, I won’t cry over…<sniff sniff> that loser BQB…<sniff>.

#9 – Hug Your Cat

Video Game Rack Fighter Cat is my fluffy valentine.  If you don’t have a fluffy valentine, maybe there’s one at the pound who would love to be yours.

#8 – Eat Lots of Ice Cream

Preferably, with the cat under one arm and the spoon in the other hand thus to maximize the total possible amounts of cat snuggling and scooping of ice cream into face hole.

#7 – Fart Freely

You’re single.  You have no one to offend.  Let ’em rip.

#6 – Foil a Super Villain’s Plot to Take Over the World

There’s always a super villain up to no good somewhere.  Also, not gonna lie, foiling a super villain is a great story to tell on a date.  You’ll definitely have a valentine next year if you foil a super villain’s plot.  Then again, I have foiled several super villain plots and I am dateless this year.  Harrumph.

#5 – Drunk Dial Exes

Pretend to be a telemarketer just so they’ll talk to you again.  Or just be quiet and listen to them breathe.  Better yet, load up Lionel Ritchie’s Hello and press play when your ex answers.

Nothing convinces an ex that they goofed up big time by letting you get away than calling them a bunch of times and having Lionel sing, “Hello…is it me you’re looking for?”

Oh wait.  They weren’t looking for you.  That’s why they are exes.  Scratch this plan.  Don’t call your exes.  You are better than this.

#4 – Invent a Fake Valentine

Send yourself roses and chocolates at work.  Sign the card from “A Secret Admirer” or pick a swarthy name like, “Ricardo Montalban.”  Just make sure no one in the office is a fan of Fantasy Island.

You’ll know the swag is from you, but your office co-workers will at least assume someone wants a piece of what you’ve got.  Enjoy the compliments all day.  Eat the chocolate and cry all night.

#3 – Declare Yourself a Jehovah’s Witness for a Day

All holidays stink because the only one we should be celebrating is Jesus.  Why are you idiots celebrating Valentine’s Day when you are too stupid to concentrate on a love related holiday and remember to love Jesus at the same time?  Bunch of dummies.

Renounce your new faith on February 15 or what the heck, you could hold onto it until St. Patrick’s Day if you prefer.

#2 – Build a Sex Robot

I took a tour of BQB’s super secret science workshop and between you and me, he has tried to make a whole ton of sex robots.  None of them work though.  They’re hot robot babes, but all they want to do is wash your hair and give you a pedicure.  BQB is the worst robot programmer ever.

#1 – Go to that Place Where That Person Said They’d Meet You

Remember when your old flame said, “If neither of us have found anyone in X number of years, then meet me at such and such monument or famous public place.”

Have X number of years passed yet?  Better get over to that place then.  Then again, you could just punish that dirtbag for not being with you when he had the chance and stand him up while you watch TV and snuggle with your cat and ice cream carton.

Are you a single person?  No, seriously, you probably are if you are reading this blog, but you know, I didn’t want to just insult you by automatically assuming.  If you are sans date this year, how will you spend this holiday?

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Don’t Buy a Bunch of Presents For Your Kids and Then Complain About Your Kids Having Them

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Hello.  I’m Bookshelf Q. Battler, a world renowned poindexter, reviewer of pop cultural happenings, epic nerdventurer and a champion yeti fighter.

Additionally, I’m an accomplished philanthropist and activist.  My causes include “Stop Lightning Infused Toaster Pastry Toilet Death” (a rare condition that occurs when the subject eats a toaster pastry that has been struck by a bolt of lightning, then dies on the toilet while trying to expel the aforementioned lightning bolt) and #OscarsSoPretty (a movement dedicated to giving more golden statues to people who look like bronzed gargoyles).

Today, I announce a new cause – “Don’t Buy Your Kids a Bunch of Presents on Christmas Only to Then Turn Around and Complain That Your Kids Got a Lot of Presents.”

How it Starts

Mom and Dad work hard all year and spend a bunch of money on toys to make kids happy. They put a lot of work into it – shopping, hiding the toys so the kids don’t find them early, wrapping them, putting them under the tree and so on.

Grandma, Grandpa, Aunts and Uncles often get into the act.  They love the kids so they get the kids presents, wrap them…the adults in the family will coordinate and ask each other what the kids like, what toys do they already have so they don’t get the wrong thing and so on.

And then after they do all this work, they just ruin it by turning Christmas morning into one long, drawn out bitch and moan session about how these kids have it so good and they had it so terrible.

:::Kid opens present:::

ADULT #1: Oh look at that!  Aren’t you special?

ADULT #2:  Yeah, when I was a kid I didn’t get anything like that.

ADULT #3:  My parents made me get a rock from the back yard, draw a smiley face on it with a magic marker, then bring it inside, wrap it, and put it under the tree myself.

ADULT #4:  You had a magic marker?  Ha! My parents couldn’t even afford markers.  I just had to pretend my rock had a smiley face.

KID’S BRAIN: Umm…I’m sorry?

The Two Types of Kid’s Christmas Present Complaints Made By Adults

#1 – That didn’t exist when I was a kid and I wish it did.

This one is a little more understandable.  Time marches on.  Inventors invent.  Scientists science up some shit.  New products are created.

You wish you had better toys to play with when you were young.  Even aside from toys, you think your life might have been better had this product or that product been around when you were younger.

I feel your pain.  I am unwaveringly convinced that had YouTube existed when I was twenty, I would have gotten a spot on Saturday Night Live and be well into my movie career by now.

But hey, just because today a creative person can buy everything they need to put on a web show at Best Buy for a reasonable price doesn’t mean I should hate on youngsters who do that, or hate on myself because of…what?  I was born in a time when video cameras where giant contraptions you had to hold on your shoulder and even when you did record something there was no way for the average person to share it with the world?

Be happy that science is constantly creating new inventions.  Hopefully, science will eventually find ways to save the world and bring about peace and so on.

Don’t be sad whatever you are interested in now wasn’t around when you are a kid.  If you are healthy enough to complain, then you are healthy enough to go get whatever it is now and use it.

Hell, if I weren’t so wretchedly ugly, I’d make my own YouTube show.  Sure, I was wretchedly ugly when I was a twenty year old but people would have been like, “Good for him.  That wretchedly ugly twenty year old is doing something with his life.”

Today, if I did it, people would be like, “Eww…that wretchedly ugly man is trying too hard to look cool.”

And who knows?  Maybe all these new inventions aren’t great.  Maybe we were better off without them when we were younger.  Maybe we talked more.  Maybe we were more willing to listening to different points of view instead of retreating into Internet bubbles that rehash our viewpoints.

Maybe life was better in the 1990s when people would have thought you were an asshole for taking pictures of your lunch to show people what your lunch looks like.

#2 – My parents couldn’t afford something like that.

Sorry to hear that, but when you make this complaint, you’re missing the big picture.

You’re making this complaint because secretly, or perhaps not so secretly, you are jealous of your kids.  Your parents struggled and didn’t have much money.  Thus, you had to go without.  You would have enjoyed fancy toys and so on as a kid.

Yeah, your childhood was hard, but if you are complaining that your kid got something you didn’t get, then don’t be sad your kid got something you didn’t get.  Be happy that you overcame your past and put yourself into a position where can afford to buy your kids things that you weren’t able to get as a kid.

And you know what?  If you are healthy enough to complain, then you are healthy enough to play with that toy now.  It isn’t too late.  Grab it while your kid isn’t looking and play with it or hell, you’ve got the money now, buy yourself one of your very own.

CONSIDER THIS…

Christmas is supposed to be great for everyone, but really, it is the best for kids.  They don’t have money.  They have no ability to get any.  They have minds full of mush. They still think the world is a magical place where a wonderful flying fat man can make all of their dreams come true.

Don’t worry about knocking them down a peg.  As soon as they grow up and venture into the real world, there will be a long line of people (employers, boyfriends/girlfriends etc.) who will be more than willing to tell them that they aren’t good enough, so let them enjoy the toy that wasn’t around or that was unaffordable when you were a kid, because once a kid grows up and realizes dreams don’t just magically happen, even when you do try real hard, the holiday season begins to lose its luster.

IN CONCLUSION…

Don’t put a lot of time, money, and effort into buying your kids presents only to turn Christmas morning into a bitch and moan session about how lousy you had it and how great your kids have it.

Kids hear more than you think, and while they may not understand certain things you say today, they might look back as adults and realize what you were saying, that you were mad at them for having something you didn’t have.

If you really, truly, honestly can’t help but hate on your kids for having a better Christmas than the ones you had growing up, then just save your time, money, and effort and don’t buy any presents.  Tell the kid to go into the back yard and pick a rock and imagine that it has a smiley face.

Sure, the kid will be sad now, but when he is an adult, he won’t have to deal with all of the emotional stress that comes with feeling bad because he got better presents than his parents did.

So how should Christmas morning go from now on?

ADULT #1 – Hooray, you got that toy!

ADULT #2 – Good for you!  Have a lot of fun with it.

But seriously, in private, when the kids aren’t around, feel free to bitch and moan to each other all you want and hell, if you can think of a nice way to say it, maybe remind the kids now and then that money doesn’t grow on trees so they should take care of their toys and don’t break them and shit because there are starving, toyless children in Africa otherwise they might grow up to become self-absorbed douches.

Ahh hell…what do I know?  Do whatever you want.  I’m not a child psychologist.  Merry Christmas.

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Merry Christmas 

Merry Christmas 3.5 readers.


Bookshelf Q. Battledog, World’s Worst Security Dog

No wonder the Yeti is always taking over BQB HQ.

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Who Was Mommy Kissing in the “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” Song?

3.5 readers, drop everything you are doing.  Seriously, I don’t care if you’re in the middle of brain surgery, either performing it or having it performed on you.

Today, we are, once and for all, going to figure out who Mommy was kissing in the song, “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”

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The year was 1952.  The baby boomers were booming and everyone liked Ike.  Sock hops and malt shoppes were frequented by youngsters and every woman’s middle name was “Sue.”  Becky Sue.  Peggy Sue.  Annie Sue.  You get the picture.

A young lad by the name of Jimmy Boyd records a song written by Tommie Connor.  The song is a hit and an instant Christmas classic.  It is unlikely you’ll get through the holiday season without hearing it at least one time.

But forget all that.  Is Mommy having an affair with Kris Kringle?

I’ve got to know.

The lyrics:

I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night
She didn’t see me creep
Down the stairs to have a peep
She thought that I was tucked up
In my bedroom, fast asleep
Then I saw mommy tickle Santa Claus
Underneath his beard so snowy white
Oh, what a laugh it would have been
If Daddy had only seen
Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night.

POSSIBLE THEORIES:

#1 – Mommy Kissed the Kid’s Father, Who Was Dressed Like Santa Claus

Once in awhile a father will go the extra mile and don a Santa suit to surprise his stupid little children.  So perhaps this kiss was innocent.  Perhaps Mommy was kissing Daddy.

EVIDENCE:

  • “Then I saw Mommy tickle Santa Claus, underneath his beard so snowy white.”

Hmm…inconclusive.  Maybe it was a fake white beard and Mommy tossed it up to give Daddy the old tickle action.  Or then again, one would have to move Santa’s beard in order to tickle his belly.  Who knows?

  • “Oh, what a laugh it would have been if Daddy had only seen Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night.”

This line is typically cited as evidence that that Daddy was just dressed up like Santa.  The songwriter may be trying to give the listener a clue where the listener goes, “Oh OK this was just a stupid kid who saw something he didn’t understand and then basically accused his mother of being a whore under false pretenses.”

Personally, I can buy this, but I would like to know whether the husband was known to work late or be out late and whether or not the couple was having problems.

Were other holiday icons known to frequent the house late at night?  Did the kid ever see his mother kissing the Easter Bunny or engage in lesbian kissing with the Tooth Fairy?

The song just doesn’t give me enough info.

#2 – Mommy Cheated on Daddy With Santa

So, the kid is pretty convinced this is Santa.  Kids are stupid.  I can’t condemn Mommy just on the word of a little kid.  Yet, it is noteworthy that the kid does seem pretty sure. Yet, due to his youthfulness, he doesn’t appear to understand the gravity of the situation.

“Oh what a laugh it would have been if Daddy had only seen Mommy kissing Santa Clause last night.”

Ahh.  So sad.  The words of a little mush brained child who doesn’t understand how the world works.  No, Daddy would not have laughed to learn that his wife was unfaithful.

I’d like to know if the kid told Daddy about this.  If Daddy laughed then, ok.  Daddy’s in on the joke.  Daddy dressed up like Santa and he laughs because the kid didn’t realize what was going on.

If Daddy doesn’t laugh upon being told this information, then he’ll surely question Mommy as to who she was kissing.

#3 – Mommy Was Kissing a Random Obese Bearded Man (Or, Mommy Might Be a Biker Bitch)

The kid doesn’t say he saw a red suit or any reindeer.  Sure, a long white beard and a fat stomach is Santa’s signature look, but it is also the look of your average, run-of-the mill, unfriendly neighborhood motorcycle gang.

Do we know for sure that while Daddy is out working to support the family, Mommy isn’t making out with random bikers who look like Santa in exchange for her meth fix?

I’m not saying this is happening, but I’d like to know more.

#4 – Mommy and Daddy Were Role Playing

Daddy dressed up as Santa, not to spread holiday cheer, but because Mommy and Daddy are perverts who work costumes into their perversions.  Today Daddy dresses up like Santa and asks Mommy to sit on his lap.  Tomorrow Mommy dresses up like an Amazon warrior princess and gives Daddy a spanking.

Huh.  Now I know why the 1953 sequel, “I Saw Daddy Getting a Spanking From an Amazonian Warrior Princess” was a total flop.

#5 – The Kid’s a Liar

Maybe he’s just a little turd that was naughty so Mommy sent him to bed without supper and so the kid got his revenge by recording a hot track in which he falsely accuses his mother of infidelity.

#6 – Daddy’s a Cuckold

Daddy knows Mommy kisses Santa Claus.  Daddy likes to hide in the closet and watch.

#7 – The Kid Dreamed It

Maybe the kid isn’t a liar per se but maybe he has a wild imagination.  Maybe he ate too many cookies before bedtime and the sugar rotted his brain.

#8 – Mommy Kissed a Bearded Woman

I’d have to know if the circus was in town at the time to be sure, but Mommy may very well have been kissing a portly bearded woman.

#9 – Daddy Looks Like Santa Claus

Maybe Daddy is also fat and has a white beard.  Maybe this is an older couple who had kids late in life or maybe Daddy is like Trump and Mommy is like Melania where you have a couple with a large age difference.

And finally…

#10 – Mommy is Straight Up Kissing Santa Claus Behind Daddy’s Back

Maybe Mommy’s a shameless floozy.  Maybe Daddy is a jerk and has been denying Mommy his affections so Mommy sought comfort elsewhere in the form of an obese, bearded holiday icon.  Perhaps Daddy has been giving it to Mrs. Claus on the regular so Santa and Mommy conspired to seek revenge and this is the best they came up with.

All I know is the kid seems pretty sure about what he saw.  That’s all I’m saying.

Who was Mommy kissing in the “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” song 3.5 readers?

Discuss in the comments!

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Daily Discussion with BQB – What is Your Favorite Christmas Carol?

What is your favorite Christmas carol 3.5 readers?  I have to go with Jingle Bells.

Jingle Bells, the Yeti smells, my blog has laid an egg..

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Baby It’s Cold Outside (Politically Correct Millennial Version)

“Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”  It’s the go-to Christmas song whenever male and female celebrities want to cut a Yuletide single.

Good for its time but today, let’s be honest, it’s a tad rapey.

Fear not, for I, BQB, have rewritten it for modern times.  Enjoy!

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:::A couple enjoys a drink by the fireside as snowflakes can be seen coming down through the window:::

WOMAN: I really can’t stay.

MAN: Baby…er, I mean fellow person it’s cold outside.

WOMAN: I’ve got to go away.

MAN:  Fellow person it’s cold outside.

WOMAN:  This evening has been…

MAN:  I had been hoping that you’d drop in, but I say that only in a pleasant, non-threatening manner and with no ulterior motive whatsoever.

WOMAN:…so very nice.

MAN:  Will you sign this form indicating your consent to allow me to hold your hands in order to determine if they are cold as ice?

WOMAN:  My mother will start to worry.

MAN:  Beautiful, uh I mean, person whose looks I did not notice whatsoever because beauty is a social construct of the mind, I’d like to ask what is your hurry though please be aware you are in no way, shape or form required to tell me.

WOMAN:  My father will be pacing the floor.

MAN:  Listen to that fireplace roar.  Perhaps we can sit a spell and talk about how your father is a cog in the patriarchy’s vast anti-female machine.

WOMAN:  So really I’d better scurry.

MAN:  Person, please don’t hurry.  Really, your preferred level of speed is your business.

WOMAN:  Maybe just a half a drink more.

MAN:  Turn on Pandora while I pour.

WOMAN:  The neighbor’s might think.

MAN:  Person, it’s bad out there…and I only say that because I have your safety in mind and not because this is an elaborate rouse to engage in inappropriate activities with you, though I understand why you would suspect me of that because I am a disgusting man.  Please take the bed and I will chain myself in a cage to make sure I don’t succumb to my vile mannish ways.

WOMAN:  Say, what’s in this drink?

MAN:  I don’t know but I got it at the same liquor store Bill Cosby goes to.

WOMAN:  I wish I knew how…

MAN:  Now, I wish to point out that your eyes are like starlight now, but I only say that in an artistic sense and not in a romantic sense because you are not a piece of meat to be ogled.  I am so ashamed of myself.

WOMAN:…to break this spell.

MAN:  I’ll take your hat, not because of some outdated idea of chivalry because I fully understand that you are capable of putting your own hat away, but because I would just appreciate the opportunity to assist you with your hat, though if that isn’t cool, just say the word and I will step away from your hat.  Also, I was thinking about mentioning that your hair looks swell but I won’t because “swell” is another social construct.

WOMAN:  I ought to say, “No, no, no, sir!”

MAN:  Oh no, the patriarchy strikes again!  Person, you are not required to call me “sir” and please, by all means, say no.  Say the word and it is out in the freezing cold blizzard you go.  I’m not even going to ask if you would mind if I were to move in closer.  In fact, I’m going to get a tape measure so I can make sure we are separated by ten feet at all times.

WOMAN:  At least I’m gonna say that I tried.

MAN:  Please, you would not hurt my pride if you left.  Male pride is a social construct.  I wish I could find my pride and rip it out of me to teach the patriarchy a lesson.

WOMAN:  I really can’t stay…

MAN:  Person, you must get out!

BOTH:  Ah, but it’s cold outside!

WOMAN:  The snow is so high I can’t get home!

MAN:  Better that you freeze out there than another man gets his way!

WOMAN:  Say, lend me your coat.

MAN:  Here, now please leave and do not delay!

WOMAN: You’ve really been grand…

MAN:  Men are the worst in this land.

WOMAN:  Why don’t you see?

MAN:  They really should round up and jail everyone with a pee-pee.

WOMAN:  There’s bound to be talk tomorrow.

MAN:  Slut shaming is a source of national sorrow.

WOMAN:  At least there will be plenty implied.

MAN:  I’m going to tell everyone I curled up in the corner and cried.

WOMAN:  I really can’t stay…

MAN:…then you totally shouldn’t!

BOTH:  Ah, but it’s cold outside!

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Kid Fat Shamed By Santa

Did you hear about the kid that went to see Santa and was told by the Jolly Old Elf to “layoff the cheeseburgers and fries?”

Check out the CNN story for more.

So many things at play here, 3.5 readers.

First of all, isn’t it kind of ironic for Santa to call anyone fat?  That’s the pot calling the kettle black, right?  The man is literally famous for being a super fat fatty.

Really, Santa?  You want to tell a chubby kid to lay off the burgers?  OK.  Howsabout you don’t eat a plate of cookies and drink a glass of milk AT EVERY HOUSE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD every Christmas Eve?

Sheesh.

But ok, so this story opened up the can of worms that is the ongoing fat shaming debate.

Here’s my two cents.

It isn’t healthy to be overweight.  However, overweight people should be free to go about their lives without being insulted, name-called, treated like crap.

That’s pretty reasonable.  Like most issues, the debate collapses when both sides huddle to their extreme corners.

On the one hand, you have people who say fat shaming helps fat people so feel free to say nasty things to them and treat them like crap.  It’ll motivate them to lose weight.

Yeah, no.  It’ll just make their lives more difficult and the harder their lives are, the harder it is to lose weight.  If you wouldn’t want someone pointing out your problems every time you step foot out into public, then don’t do it to other people.  Mind your business and stop bothering people.  Pretty simple.

Then on the other side of the debate, you have some people who are fat and they say dumb things like being fat doesn’t cause health problems, its ok, people who don’t find me attractive and don’t want to date me are shitty, whatever.  That’s the other side and that’s equally silly.

Is this kid chubby?  Yes.  Is he still a little kid?  Yes.  Should his parents help him out and get him involved in sports and get him eating right and exercising while he is young and his body can easily bounce back and he’s got the energy to lose weight and build muscle and turn it around so he can live a happy, healthy life?

Yes.

Is that easier said than done?

Yes.

Should a little kid be able to sit on Santa’s lap and not be criticized?

Yes.

Here’s why:  Because this kid probably has no shortage of kids at school who will gladly call him fat and make fun of him, so maybe, just maybe, while his mind is still young and he’s able to still feel a childlike sense of wonder and enthusiasm about the world, he should be able to sit on Santa’s lap and not be told that he’s fat, especially when Santa is also fat.

I mean, come on, being a Rent-a-Santa is like the only job where being fat and having gray hair and a beard gives the candidate a leg up for the position.

In conclusion, my advice to the world:

  • Fatty Haters – keep it to yourself.  If the the portly person is minding his own business, you don’t need to make fun of him.  Don’t be a dick and then try to pass it off as you are a nice guy trying to help him realize he has a problem.  He knows.  It isn’t a matter of him not knowing and needing someone to point it out.  It is a whole perfect storm of DNA, environment, emotions, self-control, addiction and so on.  This person feels bad 24/7, so don’t worry, he’s not going to feel great if you give him a pass on the shitty insult you’ve cooked up in your head.
  • Fat Activists – No, fat people shouldn’t be treated like crap, but don’t put out misinformation and try to convince people that weight issues don’t cause health problems.
  • Santa – You’re fat.  Stop calling kids fat and lay off the cookies.

 

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Stop Sucking With Vinny Baggadouchio – Desuckifying the Holidays

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World Renowned Motivational Speaker, Anti-Suck Book Author and Bookshelf Battle Blog Columnist, Vinny Baggadouchio

I’m Vinny Baggadouchio and like a giant vacuum cleaner with a stuck “on” switch, I’m sucking all of the suck right out of this sucky world, one sucker at a time.

Perhaps you have read one of my fine anti-suck books:

Six Ways to Suckday

When a Problem Comes Along, You Must Suck It

Suck Less Now…Ask Me How

Have You Ever Tried to Not Suck?

Suck Free in Sixty Days

Sucky Suckers and the Sucky Suckers Who Suck Them

Get the Suck Outta Here!

Don’t Hate the Suck Game, Hate the Suck Player

The Path to a Suck-Free Life

The Super Suck Cure

Help!  I Suck!

Sucker Says What?

3.5 readers, let me tell you, the holidays are great but sometimes they can suck…especially for a person who already sucks.

Think about what a person who doesn’t suck is doing this time of year.  The non-sucker is putting up twinkly lights with his kids and setting up the Christmas tree.  He’s going shopping with his wife, putting on a tacky yet festive, drinking egg nog and singing carols around the fire with family and friends.

Alas, the average sucker does not have such a wonderful life.  The average sucker is alone.  He’s warming up a six month old TV dinner he found in the back of his freezer and Netflixing a sucky movie that was made specifically for Netflix.

That poor sucker.  Due to his sucky life, he has no one to snuggle with,n o kids to give presents to, and few prospects, if any, of turning his life around.

And yes, as that poor, downtrodden sucktastic sucker falls asleep at his computer, his mind drifts off to the promises he made to himself last Christmas.  “By Christmas of next year, I won’t suck!  I’ll have a wife who doesn’t suck and be on my way to having kids who don’t suck!”

Perhaps the sucker has some extended family he can visit, but a self-aware sucker won’t be happy.  He’ll be miserable.  No one wants to be the sucker with a pity invitation.  Non-suckers throw Christmas parties at their lavish, suck-free homes.  Suckers are invited to them so they can sit in the corner and think about all the mistakes they made to lead to the present day where the holidays suck so bad for them.

You know who else has a hard time on Christmas?  The sucker who wrote me this letter:

Dear Vinny B,

The holidays sure do suck.  My wife divorced me five years ago because I sucked up our marriage by playing hide the turnip with her sister’s best friend’s cousin’s dog-walker’s wife’s sister.  It seemed like a good idea at the time, but not so much now.

Christmas used to be a great time for me.  I’d grab a cup of coffee, snuggle up with the missus and watch the kids open their toys.

Now I live in a sucky single-bedroom apartment on the corner of Crack and Meth Streets.  I owe a ridiculous amount of alimony and child support and my children are being raised by their step-dad/my ex-wife’s former yoga instructor.

Every year, from Thanksgiving until New Year’s Day, I feel like shoving my head in the oven and cooking the suck right out of myself because I just don’t know if I will ever be able to climb the anti-suck hill in order to get back to the kind of suck-less life I used to have.

Sincerely,

Big Time Sucker in Jacksonville

Wow.  That’s a lot of suck to de-suck and dissect.

You know Big Time, I play it straight.  I don’t sugar coat things.  I’m not going to suck all over your leg and tell you that your leg doesn’t suck now.

What you did was a sucktabulous thing.  There’s no excuse for it.  That’s the bad news.

But wait.  The good news is that you realize you did a sucky thing.  So many suckers just suck their way through life with nary an understanding of why they suck so much.

You, on the other hand, feel suck shame and that means you are a self aware sucker.  You are mature enough to know the difference between what sucks and what doesn’t suck and that means there is hope for you.

So the first thing I want you to do is to take a look at yourself in the mirror and forgive the sad, depressed sucker staring back at you.  Yes, the sucker staring at you in the mirror sucked up your life.  He looked at all the non-sucking goodness you had and like a skunk in heat, squirted it with a thick layer of suck spray.

That really sucks, but it has been five years.  The mourning period is over and at this point, there’s no use crying over spilt suck.  Once that suck is out of the bag, you can’t contain it. You just have to manage it.

The second thing I want you to do is apologize to your ex-wife.  She signed up with a man she thought did not suck and did not get the non-sucker that she wanted.  Let her know you’re sorry and you know there’s no fixing the suck you brought into her life, but you want to be a man and be a father to your children.

Third, you’re going to put your foot down on the suck and de-suck your life.  Be the non-sucker you used to be again.  Getting angry at yourself for past sucky behavior is normal.  In a way, it is even healthy.  However, at this point, you’ve reached a critical mass where anger, self-hatred and self-loathing will get nowhere.

These negative feelings won’t get your wife back.  They won’t get your kids back.  If anything, they’ll just keep sucking you down, down, down deeper into the suck pit of your sucky life until one day, you find yourself so deep that you can’t crawl back to the suck-free shore and there isn’t a single non-sucker around who would be willing to throw you a suck-free life line.

Improve and take care of yourself.  Curb your sucky habits.  Exercise.  Eat right.  Take care of yourself.  Work hard at your career and find some passions that don’t suck in your spare time.

When you get time to spend with your kids, be the best, least sucky father you can be.  Be a positive role model and maybe, when they’re old enough, apologize to them.  Tell them you’re sorry you sucked things up and want to make sure they don’t repeat your mistakes so they can go on to become productive, non-sucking members of society.

Whether you are Big Time Sucker in Jacksonville, or just one of BQB’s random 3.5 readers, keep this in mind.  The holidays are a celebration of joy, happiness and love.  They are a time to reflect on the past year’s accomplishments and to plan exciting things for the year ahead.

If you feel none of that this season, it is because your life sucks but remember, you are aware of the suck.  You are not ignorant of the suck and realizing that you suck is the first step one must take on the long road to not sucking.

Most importantly, remember how bad you feel this year.  Don’t ball those sucky feelings up and bury them deep inside.  Let them out with a good cry or a loud scream, then spend the next year doing your damnedest to de-suck your sucky life so that next year at this time, you won’t feel depressed.  You won’t feel sad.  You will be one of those non-sucking people who puts on a dopey sweater and hugs his family over the holidays.

Rome wasn’t built in a day or a year, so no, you won’t fix your sucky life in a day or most likely, even in a year.  But a year is long enough to suck a lot of the suck out of your life and you never know, if you put the work in, there just might be a lady who doesn’t suck in your life next Christmas.

Just don’t suck it up this time, Big Time Sucker.

Until next time, I’m Vinny Baggadouchio, wishing you a Suck Free Christmas and a Happy New Year that Does Not Suck.

Don’t forget to buy my one of my anti-suck books at a book store that does not suck near you.

DISCLAIMER: Mr. Baggadouchio is an expert on nothing and has no credentials of any kind.  Nothing he says is to ever be relied upon as advice or taken seriously.  Those with sucky problems are advised to seek out real experts who are trained in the arts of de-sucking the lives of total suckers.

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An Interview with Krampus, the World’s Most Notorious Ancient Germanic Yuletide Demon

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.

So, as you know, I’m a hostage of the yeti, but he is allowing me to interview my next guest because he is such a fan of his work.

I’m not a fan per se but, you know, the blog must come first and I need the clicks.

Without further ado…Krampus.

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Krampus: Vile Ancient Yuletide Demon/Denier of the Power of Facial Scrubs

BQB: Your Evil Hornyness, welcome.

KRAMPUS: Thank you, BQB. I’d say it’s good to be here but I’ve been thrown out of places much classier than your pitiful blog.  Hell, I had way more than 3.5 followers in the olden days when computers hadn’t even been invented.

BQB:  Right.  So, can you tell my 3.5 followers who you are?  I don’t mean to be rude.  I’m just not sure that they have heard of you.

KRAMPUS: That’s cool, bitch.  First of all, I am hella old.  I date back before pre-Christian times.  Second, I’m the antithesis of everyone’s favorite fat man, that rotund wishy washy do-gooder Santa Clause, or as I call him, “Old Saint Dick.”  See what I did there?

BQB: Yes.

KRAMPUS:  Because he’s really Old Saint Nick but I called him Old Saint Dick because I think he’s a dick.

BQB: Punny.  But we all know what Santa does.  He brings toys to all the good little girls and boys of the world.  What do you do?

KRAMPUS: Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the phone and stop the presses, Cochise.  Santa does not bring toys to good girls and boys, so let me just straighten out your bent propaganda there.

BQB: He doesn’t?

KRAMPUS:  No, he doesn’t.  Oh sure, he’s got you all hoodwinked with all the, “He sees you when you’re sleeping” and the naughty/nice list but really, honestly, truly, we all know that shit is a scam.  That fat bastard will bring a toy to a kid no matter what and he does not give a shit whether or not that kid has been naughty or nice.

BQB:  Really?

KRAMPUS:  You know it, bitch.  Look, parents love to get their misbehaving little turds to straighten up by warning them that they will get jack shit when Santa finds out all the heinous shit they’ve done, but Santa doesn’t care enough to actually cross-reference a naughty/nice list of every damn child in the entire world.  And you think the elves are going to help him do it?  Those little freaks are union.  They have like nineteen smoke breaks a day and the fat man is lucky if he can get those pointy eared butt goblins to do a half-hour’s worth of work in a day where he pays them for eight hours at a rate of fifty bucks an hour.

BQB:  Wow.

KRAMPUS: I know.  If I were that fat ass crushed red velvet suit wearing diabetes patient, the first thing I would do is send all of those Keebler cookie rejects packing and ship the entire North Pole operation to China.

BQB:  I think we’ve gotten off topic.  You still haven’t told my 3.5 readers what you do.

KRAMPUS:  Well, nothing right now, but back in ancient times, I did Santa’s job.

BQB:  Oh.  So you delivered toys to good little girls and boys?

KRAMPUS: Say what?  Bitch, please.  If a kid was good, I walked my demon ass right on by that kid’s house without giving him a reward.  You’re supposed to be good and to channel my inner Chris Rock, you’re not supposed to get a “cookie” for doing something “you’re supposed to do.”

BQB:  Oh.  And the bad kids?

KRAMPUS:  Beaten with chains.

BQB: Umm…

KRAMPUS:  Yup.  “Hey Gunter and Greta,” all the ancient Germanic parents would say.  “Be good and do your chores and clean up the cave and wipe all the moss off the rocks and don’t talk back or else Krampus will throw you in his sack, beat you with his chains, then drag you off to Hell.”

BQB:  This interview has taken a turn for the worse.

KRAMPUS: Oh please, don’t feed me that namby-pamby bleeding heart shit.  The ancient holiday season was fun.  Ancient folk would even sing songs.  “Krampus Carols” we used to call ’em.

BQB: Please don’t sing one.

KRAMPUS: “Jingle chains, jingle chains, Krampus has got his chains…”

BQB: Stop.

KRAMPUS: “Over the river and through the woods and into Krampus’ sack we go…”

BQB:  Stop.

KRAMPUS: “…it’s slung over his back and down through the cracks of the earth and into the underworld we go-ah-oh!”

BQB:  We get the picture.  So obviously, you don’t do that anymore.

KRAMPUS:  A shame really.  So many children deserve a good in-sack, chain beating.

BQB:  Wow.  OK, just for the record and not just because my lawyer is advising me to say this…I do not condone or approve of violence against children in any way, shape or form.

KRAMPUS:  Fine, fine.  We can nix the chains and the sacks and the dragging naughty children off to Hell now that we live in quote unquote modern “enlightened” times.  But at the very least, that little shit that keeps pulling his sister’s hair and treats his parents like cash machines and personal servants should not get a present from the fat man, don’t you agree?

BQB:  Eh…kids are kids.  Sometimes the worst kids grow up, realize the difference between right and wrong and live good lives despite youthful naughtiness.

KRAMPUS:  Yeah, and like I said, no more sacks, chains, and/or draggings off to the underworld, but maybe instead of a new bicycle, Tommy can pay his penance for bullying all those nerdy kids at school by being forced to watch a week’s worth of incredibly dry documentaries.  “No Tommy.  No presents for you.  No trip to Grandma’s house to play with toys and stuff your face with cookies.  You will now watch programs about how wicker furniture is made until New Year’s Eve.

BQB:  I’m not really for it but I guess it is way better than the chains and the sack and so on.

KRAMPUS:  I’m a hip demon.  I get with the times.  I can find all kinds of new age punishments that twenty-first century hipster millennial parents will be down with.  “What?  You didn’t do your homework?  No presents for you until you eat this bowl of vegan, gluten-free tofu.”

BQB:  I think I know the answer already but I have to ask.  Why aren’t you as well-known as Santa?

KRAMPUS:  Ah.  Where do I start?  Rumor has it that Hitler had me banned.  I can’t confirm or deny that because we evil demons have to stick together, but between you, me and your 3.5 readers, I was such a shit heel that even the dude who was all like, “Hey, maybe shipping off six million people to their doom isn’t such a bad idea” heard about me and was all like, “Whoa, whoa, whoa!  Krampus!  Enough with the chains and the sack beatings already!”

BQB:  So it was Hitler?

KRAMPUS:  Eh, you could say that but really it was commercialization.  The gift and card industry.  Those advertising pricks on Madison Avenue.  I mean, really, around this time of year, whose face do you want to see on your box of cookies, or on your soda-pop bottle or on your television?  Me and my jagged razor sharp teeth of Fatty McGoody-Two-Shoes, what with his chubby angelic cheeks and his professor glasses and his red suit and his warm smile and his overall aura of, “Hey, you all do your best, so here’s some free toys and shit and you know what?  I’ll even let you naughty kids fool yourselves into thinking you were nice all year long because that’s just what the Grandpa of the World does.”

BQB:  Well, when you put it like that…

KRAMPUS:  There’s just no way I can compete with that adorable walking “Before Jenny Craig” model.  I might be getting soft in my old age because there are times when even I want to let bygones and bygones and give old Fatty McManTits a big hug.

BQB: Why don’t you?

KRAMPUS:  Eh, Mrs. Claus and I used to date.  Santa is kind of a dick about it.  It’s all very awkward. I’ve said too much.

BQB:  It’s cool.  Only 3.5 people read this blog anyway.  So what do you do with all your free time now that you have hung up your sack and chains?

KRAMPUS:  Oh, let’s see.  What don’t I do?  Yoga.  Knitting.  A little bit of crocheting.  Spin class.  Pottery Barn.  I can’t even get within five feet of a Pottery Barn without destroying my credit rating, let me tell you.

BQB:  They do have some nice stuff at Pottery Barn.  Krampus, that’s all the time we have and I’d like to thank you for this interview, but I won’t, because it was truly awful and will no doubt give my 3.5 readers nightmares, which they don’t deserve because they are all nice people.  Before you go, do you have any last words?

KRAMPUS:  Don’t be good because an obese, raging pizza addict at the top of the world will give you a free video game if you do, because he will give it to you even if you’re a total asshat anyway.  Instead, be good because you’re supposed to be good.  And if you’re good for the right reason, then good things will come to you throughout your life.

BQB:  Wisdom found in a surprising place.  Thank you for reading, 3.5 readers.  Good night and Merry Christmas.

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Saturday Night Live – Sump’n Claus

I’ve always laughed at this sketch.  Even if you’re too naughty for Santa, Sump’n will get you a little sump’n:

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