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I am not telling you what I want for Christmas.

  • I am not telling you what I want for Christmas. You should already know. You shouldn't have to ask. Nope, not telling you. The joy of giving a gift is lost on you, I suppose.
  • Of course, as you remind me almost daily, you cannot read my mind. I can tell right now by the look on your face that you are still clueless about what to get me for Christmas. How
  • do you manage to forget every year that I'd like a couple of crates of beer or maybe 3 for Christmas? A gold plated nose hair clipper is no substitute. It's not the thought that co
  • unts, it's the amount that counts. Think quantity, not quality. I want to get blitzed on Blatz. Shnockered on Shlitz. Buzzed on Bud. C'mon fat man, beer me!
  • Beer me up, Scotty! Drink a 12 pack at the love shack then hit the sack cuz I can't drive back when I'm blowing chunks cuz I'm drunk as a skunk. C'mon fat man, beer me!
  • Scotty was the portly bar tender at the "Starboard Bow"where the beer was dispensed via transporter controls. When I choked on some trible nuts, Bones said "It's worse than that,
  • if you talk too loudly it hisses at you loudl-" "SSSSSSSS," it interrupted him, spilling beer all over the counter. Scotty apologised profusely as Bones quickly cleared up the mess
  • and recruited Spock to apply a Vulcan nose vaccum, effectively drying the counter, along with most of the water bodies in the planet below. It was now essential to beam down to the
  • Dumbed down masses graduating college who dreamed about Vulcan.
  • We work in our small cubicles, hunched over our glowing boxes, waiting for the spaceships to rip off the roofs and pull us up into interstellar adventures.
Started
2014-12-14 15:39:54
Finished
2016-02-11 08:02:10

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