Year in Review: 2009

 

Wow.  Can you believe it’s that time of year again.  I tell you, it just snuck up on me this year like a pack of Santa’s Christmas Ninjas!  Oh, yes, Virginia, there are Christmas Ninjas.  This guy I know, we’ll call him ‘Me’, knows a guy who’s friend was telling him about this one day in the park where a dude kicked a puppy.  Then, from the trees, but what should appear, eight tiny ninjas that caused him great fear.  They were dressed all in fur, and covered with soot, and made not a sound as they landed on foot.  They drew candy cane nunchucks and gingerbread stars, and beat that dude down, seriously hard.  You may doubt what I say, but I swear it is true.  You don’t want these Ninjas to come after you!

Then they took the guys wallet and gave it to the dog.

So what’s the haps?

Phil Lederhosen from work (you remember Phil, don’t you) got laid off in the spring.  There was a hiring freeze, so they put Phil on ice (HA!).  It wasn’t so bad for him, they hired him back as a consultant a few weeks later.  During his time away, Phil opened an EBay store and sold little trinkets he shoplifted from the mall.  He was doing alright up until he got banned from EBay for life.  Seems one of his buyers left him negative feedback and sent him nasty little notes.  Since Phil wasn’t working and had the guy’s address, he got in the car and drove over there…five states away.  When he got there, he broke in, took all of the guy’s mint toys out of their boxes, bent the corners on all of his baseball cards, and took a whizz on a boxful of graded mint X-Men comics.   THEN he beat the guy up.  That Phil, what a character.

O’rangello and her baby daddy, Johnny, bought themselves a house and moved out of Tante Placebo’s crawlspace.  I’ve heard the house is very nice.  It’s up in that new subdivision out by the highway, The Duplicates of Homogeny Hills.  I’d like to visit, but can’t find the house.  If you can tell the difference between taupe, khaki and ecru, have at it.  Take the Mimeograph exit, go right, then right again.  Take a left at the  roundabout onto Redundant.  Stay on Redundant until you hit Cookie Cutter (Lane, not Drive) where it turns into Faux.  It’s the third beige house on the left.  Good luck.

The oldest O’Sullen child, Tommy, and Burka Laconic are back home.  Their latest band, Jëstërhausën (formed from the remains of Power Tools), hooked up with the road show of ‘Showgirls: The Musical’ (don’t ask) and toured strip clubs all over the Midwest.  Yeah, I’m pretty sure they took the gig for the ‘exposure’, too.  They’ve been working on some new songs for the show over at the Laconic’s garage.  How many riffs can you do on ‘Chucka-wow-wow’?  Really.  How many?  I need to know when they’re going to stop.

While things are looking ‘up’ for the Tommy, they’re not so rosy for his younger brother, Hagus.  He’s been in and out of juvee for some time now.  Last time in he converted.  And not to Islam, like his parents would have preferred.  No, Hagus hooked up with some of the ‘Black Amish’ from out past the compound.  I never thought the Amish capable of a militant wing, but apparently there’s some out there who feel that they were becoming too modernized.  Hagus and a bunch of his ‘Brethren’ got busted for busting up a quilt show in the hinterlands.  Ran around throwing apple butter at people screaming ‘De-lectrify Now!’  and ‘Quilting is Murder!’  Anyway, he got to spent a couple more weeks at juvee, where he crafted his manifesto, Ich Bein Ein Amish Jihadist, by candlelight.  I tried to read it, but it’s written in Pig German, and Matlock was on and, well, I enjoy my fancy electricity, staying up past sunset, and books that aren’t the Bible so, whatever.

Oh, talked to Jimmy Snits the other day – kinda have to, he doesn’t take hints real well- and he was telling me he’s getting back with his ex-wife.  Well, she called, he thinks that’s a sign.  He’s not sure if he’ll have her back especially after his last girlfriend, the dependency addict, went to jail.  I’m surpised you hadn’t heard about that fiasco.  Jimmy told her he had to go out of town for a week, when in reality he started sleeping under the porch to get away from her.  While he was ‘away’, she fixated on the mailman, thinking they were an item.  So one day she followed him on his route, got jealous he was ‘seeing’ all those other women and wigged out.  Beat the poor guy silly with a Victoria’s Secret catalog.  At the trial (and I had to be there because Jimmy doesn’t have a license to drive himself) Jimmy saw a chance to escape and took it. ‘Rick, er…Judge, I sure do love her, but I ain’t never known nobody more needful of alone time than her.  Plus the dog’s getting tired of me sleeping under the porch with him.  Could you give her the max?’  Way to go Jimmy.

Speaking of relationships, Bachelor Calwood is still a bachelor despite the better efforts of that gold-digging Splenda Truxtop. She went to the Aspartame Society’s Annual Saccharinalia looking for a Sugar Daddy and found Cal, again (can the Gitwell girls be far behind?)  Now, I know Cal and he likes women, just doesn’t like relationships. ‘Women,’ he’ll tell you, ‘need to be more like aluminum foil than Saran Wrap.  Recyclable, not clingy.” I think he used to work in Food Preservation.  I’m sure Splenda will clue in one day, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.  She’ll be there until the pension runs out.

Well, other than that, it’s been a quiet year.  The Gitwell girls are still easy and the Laconics are still drinking. And as for me, I get by with a little help from my friends.

Watch out for the Christmas Ninjas and Happy Easter.

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