Her friend beckons me from the hall.
I want to dress her, but her heady perfume has mesmerized me. I don’t know if I want to cover her up.
She is so beautiful, standing tall before me in her naked glory.
Her scent brings back happy memories. Times of absolute joy. Sometimes of tears, but mostly, joy.
I feel the happiness well inside me. A stupid grin on my face.
Moo squeals in delight and rubs her body all over her in a desperate attempt to take some of her presence with her.
Too, bravely sports a gash to her leg, where our naked beauty fought us on the way in. But now she stands silent, in all her glory.
O Tanenbaum, your branches green delight us.
And tickle me inside my bra.
Those damn needles get everywhere!
Her sister leans drunkenly in the hall, waiting to be ravished severely with the pruning shears and probably damn thankful that she doesn’t get to have a stint as The Bathroom Tree™ like her predecessor last year did.
We are waiting till Monday to decorate them, but the rest of the house is nearly finished.
I will post more pics, or not. Depends on my mood.
Right now I am thanking fucking GOD that I am not German or Ukrainian or somesuch. Cause apparently they have this story about a spider that is all pissed that it doesn’t get to hang ’round the house at Christmas time. The owner of the house was all freaking Martha Stewart and shit, but with like no millions of dollars and a prison sentence, and cleaned the house in readiness for Santa, or Father Christmas, or St Nick or that fat dude with all the cash or whatever, and banished the spiders.
So while she slept the spider was all ‘I will get you bitch’ and him and his buddies got drunk on bug juice and sprayed the tree in webs. They were all ‘Look at me Murray! I can shoot this shit 5 feet!’ and ‘Duuuuuude, I can totally write my name’ and ‘A little more on the left it looks lopsided’ until the tree was covered in it and they stood back and patted each other on the cephalothorax (cause spiders don’t have backs) and staggered off to find some chicks, a beetle kebab or sleep it off in the corner.
When Santa/Father Christmas/St Nick/Fat Dude-with-all-the-cash turned up he was all ‘WTF? The bitch couldn’t clean up before I schlepped* my fat white arse down her fucking chimney? I am totally hocking a loogie in her eggnog..’ but then he realised that it was those damn spiders.
So, cause Santa/Father Christmas/St Nick/Fat-Dude-with-all-the-cash is like magic and shit, he touched the webs and they turned to tinsel and glowed in the firelight. He spotted the maggoted spiders and flipped those fuckers the bird and then took off in his sleigh after leaving the Martha a can of bug spray and some other shit that she didn’t want cause Santa/Father Christmas/St Nick/Fat-Dude-with-all-the-cash is a fuckwit and cannot take a hint when he is TOLD five bajillion times that all she wants for Christmas is a dirrrrty long weekend in a hotel that has 24 hour room service and no fucking kids keeping her up all fucking night. *stamps foot*
Back to the story. So to celebrate the drunk arsehat spiders the Dutch, hang on *scrolls back up and takes a long swig of her wine*…. Germans and Ukrainians (same difference) tell this story and put a spider ornament in their trees.
Like fuck I am doing that.
So my lovelies, do you have another Christmas story you would like me to
destroy rape and pillage tell? Cause I am all about Christmas and good will to man and shit.
* the schlepping was for my girl Robin who gets all hawt and bothered when I speak Yiddish.