I got this from Somethingawful.com
seems like one of the editors will have quite a christmas.
Here is the holiday he invented:
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Get the diddly Out of My Apartmentmas
Date: December 25th
Practicing Countries: Anyone across the globe can celebrate it.
Historic Roots: I got sick of diddlying Christmas so I said to hell with it and replaced it on my calendar with this holiday. You can too if you want, I don't care, I'll be celebrating it by myself.
Observances: On Apartmentmas Eve I'll rent several pornographic movies and masturbate to them while I listen to Slayer loud enough for my neighbors to call the police. I don't like Slayer, but my neighbors like them even less than I do and if Jenna Jameson yelling for Peter North to do something to her bellybutton doesn't drown out Jingle Bells, I know Slayer will. After I'm spent I'll start drinking cheap beer, probably listening to really loud opera music while I turn a chair to face the wall and contemplate how much I hate the world. Once the beer takes hold I'll move on to stiffer drinks and probably break some stuff in my apartment. Nothing specific, but it needs to be worth enough for me to cry when I find it the next morning. Then I pass out in a pool of my own vomit.
I'll wake up at the crack of 2PM the next morning and throw a towel over the drying shell of vomit on the carpet. Too hung over to strip naked I'll shower fully clothed, squirting half a bottle of shampoo onto the reeking stains on the front of my shirt. I almost forgot, I need to be sure to set my answering machine or voice mail message to say something like "I'm out of town for the holidays to spend time with my girlfriend's family", that way people will think I am cool and have sex with things besides myself and furniture. After my refreshing shower I'll put a bathrobe on over my clothes and put on sandals and go to the grocery store and buy a frozen pizza and steak knife. If I managed to drink all my whiskey the night before I'll pick up another bottle of that and some egg nog. When I get home I'll pour the whiskey into a lemonade pitcher along with a few shots of eggnog and begin drinking while the pizza cooks.
The final observance of the day is to carve the names of every woman who broke my heart into my arms and stomach, my senses dulled by the whiskey nog. Then I'll climb up onto the roof of my apartment building and sit on the bird bath someone bought me from my retarded Amazon Wish List. If I'm lucky it will be cold enough for my still-damp clothes and the tears streaming down my face to freeze solid when I pass out. It's a good idea to keep the porno tapes rented for a few weeks so that the video store has to call and ask for them back. When they do, I say I don't remember what I rented and could they read the titles back for me. If it's a girl, I'll masturbate again while she reads the titles, if it's a guy then I'll feel guilty about masturbating while he reads the titles. Then I'll return the videos.
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Geez, its funny as hell, but for some reason, it feels as if the author is talking truth on how he spends his holidays.
Anyone has had it similar?
