Christmas Newsletter

As I write this, I have just completed a task that is ranked up there with brain surgery and flying a jet fighter. I have finished wrapping my girlfriend’s presents. I’m bruised, I’m bleeding, and I somehow contracted syphilis, but I did it and, after a substantial amount of therapy, I should be pretty much back to normal. Kinda.

It’s Christmas time, which means it’s time for the Christmas Newsletter, written (for better or worse) by me, Spink, that blog guy. For those of you that are unaware, Christmas is that magical time of year when people come together to celebrate some obese guy breaking into our homes at the dead of night and leaving us gifts under a conifer tree that was hacked off at the knee when its back was turned and forced to wear a humiliating outfit for our amusement. Somewhat coincidentally, Christmas also happens to be the only time of year where our turkey overlords lose much of their power, allowing us to slaughter them en masse and eat their flesh, so we might absorb some of their essence and, one day, overthrow them. Truly, it is a period of rejoicing.

Yes, it’s back. Christmas number two thousand and ten is approaching, and what better way to celebrate than to hunker down in front of your keyboard, behind a heavily locked door and write until your relatives leave?
If, unlike me, you actually have social skills to speak of, then I’m told that fun can be had by being “together” and “happy”, but I have already shown that my research can be pretty far off the mark. However you choose to celebrate this festive season, please remember the five most important rules of Christmas Etiquette:

No matter how much alcohol is in the fridge, refrain from drinking any until your Grandmother falls asleep. She could glare her way through a locked safe.

The food is for everyone, stop stealing it when nobody is looking.

Practice your ‘wow, it's just what I’ve always wanted’ smile, because it’s the thought that counts. Although, what thoughts were passing through your mother's head when she thought a singing tie was appropriate officewear is a question that may never be answered, like where all the forks go. Seriously, I moved into my flat with twenty forks and I’m down to six and a spork.

Watching a vomitously cheesy feel-good movie is an essential part of any Christmas Day. The good news is that the moment the movie starts, your grandmother will fall asleep and you can crack open that oddly-coloured liquor you’ve had your eye on.

When your father starts singing ‘Danny Boy’, it’s time for bed.

As long as you stick to this simple list, your Christmas day should go off perfectly.

So there it is, I wrote stuff and you read it, which is all I can ask for really. I’ll leave you with a Christmas story that I think should appeal to everyone.

It all began when I was traveling up to visit my parents over the festive period and... ((this is the point where Spink just goes on and on about a load of crap nobody really cares about. I mean, why does he think any of us would be interested in listening to some boring story about his tedious little trip to visit his family? What could possibly have happened that could warrant an entire section of the newsletter? Unless it was that one story where a tonne of truly amazing stuff happened. I mean that journey was worthy of Hollywood! Seriously you should hear it! Wait... damn it!)) ... and that's how I saved Christmas!

Merry Christmas everyone!

~Spink~