Merry Fuckin’ Christmas

I’d like to buy a dildo and name it “Up Chuck”. Because, if I were into older dudes, I’d want to be with the character Sam Axe alias Chuck Finley, from Burn Notice. Also, because it’s going to be so big anyone who used it would end up chucking up whatever they had to eat. Hence, Upchuck. Brill, aye? Never mind that I couldn’t possibly take it all in. I’m buying it just to say I have it, and so the horny dudes who visit can have a rethink about whether they can handle me. I figure, I’ll tell them they can have me if they let me shove Chucky up their derrières first. Again, ain’t I brill?

Now that I have your attention, let’s move on to what I was going to talk about. Christmas carols. Yeah folks! It’s November, which means *annoying sing-song voice* Christmas is just around the corner. Ya-yeah! You feeling Christmassy? Is you feeling the Christmas spirit? *now square dancing*

Okay fuck that. I’m not a Christmas person. Not since my recent breakup anyways. Well I never was, but I actually gave a shit about Christmas when I was with said person, until there was no longer any reason to give a shit. Other than avoiding constipation… which is irrelevant to the point I’m making here. The relationship meant a lot to me so gimme a break and stop with the eye rolling. BTW, note to Christians, I know the actual reason for the season. That isn’t what I’m dissing. Just thought I’d clear that up because SOME of y’all can school the Pharisees themselves on the art of persecution. Emphasis on SOME.

Anyways, in the spirit of Anti-Christmas, *insert devil smiley here* I have decided to write this trashicle. On to it. I’m going to take five of your favorite Christmas songs, and ruin them for you. For. Ever.
 
ITEM 1: “LET IT SNOW”
See lyrics here: http://www.41051.com/xmaslyrics/letitsnow.html  . I put this on the list because… Well we can’t sing it in Nigeria. We don’t have snow. We have harmattan; and these days even that does not have the decency to show up when it should. Plus, guess what? For those of y’all who can make snowballs, and snow angels, and snow men: yaaaaay you! (please tell me you felt the waves of my sarcasm wash over you). All harmattan does is give us colds because of the dust, dry skin, and lips so badly cracked that we can’t even kiss under the mistletoe. Luckily, we don’t give a shit about mistletoes. I’m still bitching. We can’t even make harmattan balls. Well, the only harmattan balls would be with guys whose balls are not protected from all that dryness. That said, I don’t even know if that happens to guys. And frankly, I don’t want to know.

ITEM 2: “JINGLE BELLS”
I do not need to type the lyrics here. You see, I always thought there was something wrong with the song. I mean, I know it’s supposed to be just about bells jingling, and what fun it is to ride in a one whore’s open leg… But something about it feels sexual to me. Either that, or the level of abuse I received as a kid is way worse than I realize. Because when I hear “jingle bells” come on, with that annoying chirpy, Christmassy, happy tune, all I think of is some dude walking around without pants or briefs on, in time with the music. I think maybe it’s the word jingle, which reminds me of the word jiggle. Add to that the fact that my brain conveniently substitutes the “e” with an “a”… so all I hear is “jiggle balls, jiggle balls, jiggle all the way…” What, you’re saying I have issues? Well whoop-dee-fuckin-doo, Captain Obvee.
NEXT!

ITEM 3: “I SAW MOMMY KISSING SANTA CLAUS”
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 locked 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!”

Aunty Vanessa’s Advice:
Now, kid, for the sane, and the tame, this is just a harmless song about you watching mommy give Santa a thank-you-for-the-presents kiss, and thinking Daddy would be laughing hysterically at the sight. But I’ll tell you, don’t be a retard, kiddo. I mean, mommy kissing a pot-bellied, white-bearded old man and daddy’s supposed to be cool with that? Fuck no. Daddy wouldn’t find that funny.  But if said Santa were a hot, double D’d woman, maybe daddy’s horny bone would be tickled. And kid, if this really happens, be sure to capitalize on that shit. You play your cards right, mommy will be buying you cookies and chocolates and cotton candy for the rest of her life. In my opinion, this is how the song really should go: “I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus… O-M-G. my mother’s such a whore…” Oh and by the way, the “beard”… that wasn’t a beard. That, was Santa’s hairy balls. They were tea-bagging it in her mouth. I’m sorry kid.

ITEM 4: “CHRISTMAS DON’T BE LATE”
Lyrics: “Christmas Christmas time is here; time for toys and time for cheer. We’ve been good, but we can’t last. Hurry Christmas, hurry fast. Want a plane that loops the loop. Me, I want a hula hoop. We can hardly stand the wait. Please Christmas don’t be late.”

My only issue with this song is right after saying Christmas time is here, it goes on to ask Christmas to “hurry fast” and not be late. First of all, make up your fucking mind. Is it Christmas, or not? Secondly, Christmas can’t be late. Christmas comes when Christmas comes. Like clockwork. Eejit. And speaking of Christmas coming, I think in that context the song would make a lot more sense. I mean think about it. I’ll replace “Christmas” with a stripper name like “Candy”. Then you can imagine a psychotic, randy dude singing while he’s going at it with Candy. The “toys” would be nipple clamps and butt plugs and dildos; “we’ve been good but we can’t last” would mean Randy’s been giving it to her good, but Randy Junior is just about ready to pop his load; and so he’s asking Candy to hurry the fuck up and come already… because the plane that loops the loop and the hula hoop are actually sexual positions he’d love to try right after they cream the first round. This makes more sense doesn’t it?

Finally

ITEM 5:    “SANTA CLAUS IS COMING TO TOWN”
I’m not going to type all the lyrics here. No time, abeg. But what gets me about this carol, is, “he sees you when you’re sleeping; he knows when you’re awake; he knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.” Thankfully, I never, not once, bought into the Santa bullshit. For starters, I’m Nigerian. As kids we believe what mommy says, that when a boy touches a girl, she gets pregnant/very sick and can die. We also believe when we swallow orange seeds or gum too often, it’ll start to grow out the tops of our heads. But Santa? Shiiiii. We ain’t got chimney’s yo. And in my day, the only “cookies” we knew were Okin Biscuits. We weren’t sure he’d go for it.

Anyway, if I did believe in Santa, and that he watched me while I was asleep and knew when I was awake, I would have missed out on countless nights of pleasuring myself. I would also like to point out that Santa is a pervert. What, it’s okay when Santa’s looking at the little laddies and lassies while they’re in bed, but it’s not okay when MJ does the same damn thing? Fucking double standards yo! And what’s with those child-molester forward-slash abusive dad/mom sounding lines: “You better not cry, you better not pout”? Why? So you’re about to hit me/rape me, and I should be so glad, because some creepy bearded old guy who watches me attempt to play downstairs in my room is coming to town? Is that supposed to make me happy? Damn parents. And you wonder why Stewie Griffin turned out that way.

So there you go. Have yourselves a merry little Candy… Christmas… Whatever.

Authored By Vanessa,

Vanessa’s one of our admins here at La Critique and can be reached at vanessakanu@ymail.com
Follow her on Twitter @VanessaKanu

Follow @LaCritique_ng on Twitter and like us on facebook http://facebook.com/TheCritiques