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10
Sure Fire Ways To get on Santa's bad side
- Leave him a note, explaining
that you've gone away for the holidays. Ask if he would mind
watering your plants
- Keep an angry bull in your
living room. If you think a bull goes crazy when he sees a
little red cape, wait until he sees that big, red Santa
suit!
- Build an army of snowmen on
the roof, holding signs - 'Bah Humbug' and 'Bite me Santa.'
- Throw a surprise party for
Santa when he comes down the chimney. Refuse to let him
leave until the strippers arrive.
- While he's in the house,
find the sleigh and sit in it. As soon as he comes back and
sees you, tell him that he shouldn't have missed that last
payment, and take off.
- Take everything out of your
house as if it's just been robbed. When Santa arrives, show
up dressed like a policeman and say, 'Well, well. They
always return to the scene of the crime.'
- Leave out a copy of your
Christmas list with last-minute changes and corrections.
- While he's in the house,
cover the top of the chimney with barbed wire.
- Leave lots of hunting
trophies and guns out where Santa's sure to see them. Go
outside, yell, 'Ooh! Look! A deer! And he's got a red nose!'
and fire a gun.
- Dress up like the Easter
Bunny. Wait for Santa to come and then say, 'This
neighborhood ain't big enough for the both of us.'
Submitted by Alicia,
Emmitsburg, Md.
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Holiday Eating tips ...
- Avoid carrot sticks. Anyone who puts carrots on a holiday
buffet table knows nothing of the Christmas spirit. In fact, if
you see carrots, leave immediately. Go next door, where they're
serving rum balls.
- Drink as much eggnog as you can. And quickly. Like fine
single-malt scotch, it's rare. In fact, it's even rarer than
single-malt scotch. You can't find it any other time of year but
now. So drink up! Who cares that has 10,000 calories in every
sip? It's not as if you're going to turn into an eggnog-aholic
or something. It's a treat. Enjoy it. Have one for me. Have two.
It's later than you think. It's Christmas!
- If something comes with gravy, use it. That's the whole
point of gravy. Gravy does not stand alone. Pour it on. Make a
volcano out of your mashed potatoes. Fill it with gravy. Eat the
volcano. Repeat.
- As for mashed potatoes, always ask if they're made with skim
milk or whole milk. If it's skim, pass. Why bother? It's like
buying a sports car with an automatic transmission.
- Do not have a snack before going to a party in an effort to
control your eating. The whole point of going to a Christmas
party is to eat other people's food for free. Lots of it. Hello?
- Under no circumstances should you exercise between now and
New Year's. You can do that in January when you have nothing
else to do. This is the time for long naps, which you'll need
after circling the buffet table while carrying a 10-pound plate
of food and that vat of eggnog.
- If you come across something really good at a buffet table,
like frosted Christmas cookies in the shape and size of Santa,
position yourself near them and don't budge. Have as many as you
can before becoming the center of attention. They're like a
beautiful pair of shoes. If you leave them behind, you're never
going to see them again.
- Same for pies. Apple. Pumpkin. Mincemeat. Have a slice of
each. Or, if you don't like mincemeat, have two apples and one
pumpkin. Always have three. When else do you get to have more
than one dessert? Labor Day?
- Did someone mention fruitcake? Granted, it's loaded with the
mandatory celebratory calories, but avoid it at all cost. I
mean, have some standards.
- One final tip: If you don't feel terrible when you leave the
party or get up from the table, you haven't been paying
attention. Reread tips; start over, but hurry, January is just
around the corner.
Submitted by Pat, Smith Lake, Va.
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Santa
Claus, like all pilots, gets regular visits from the Federal
Aviation Administration . . .
. . ., and the FAA examiner
arrived last week for the pre-Christmas flight check.
In preparation, Santa had the
elves wash the sled and bathe all the reindeer. Santa got his
logbook out and made sure all his paperwork was in order. He
knew they would examine all his equipment and truly put his
flying skills to the test.
The examiner walked slowly
around the sled. He checked the reindeer harnesses, the landing
gear, and even Rudolph's nose. He painstakingly reviewed Santa's
weight and balance calculations for sled's enormous payload.
Finally, they were ready for
the check ride. Santa got in and fastened his seat belt and
shoulder harness and checked the compass. Then the examiner
hopped in carrying, to Santa's surprise, a shotgun.
"What's that for?!?"
asked Santa incredulously.
The examiner winked and said,
"I'm not supposed to tell you this ahead of time," as
he leaned over to whisper in Santa's ear, "but you're going
to lose an engine on takeoff."
Submitted by Dave,
Emmitsburg, Md.
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Christmas with Louise
As a joke, my brother Jay used to hang a pair
of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he
wanted was for Santa to fill them. What they say about Santa
checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas
morning, although Jay's kids' stockings overflowed, his poor
pantyhose hung sadly empty.
One year I decided to make his dream come
true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love
doll. They don't sell those things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an
adult bookstore downtown.
If you've never been in an X-rated store,
don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying
things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding me!" "Who would
buy that?" Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section.
I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated
doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I
could use the car pool lane during rush hour.
Finding what I wanted was difficult. "Love
Dolls" come in many different models. I settled for "Lovable
Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale.
To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap
of imagination.
On Christmas Eve and with the help of an
old bicycle pump, Louise came to life.
My sister-in-law was in on the plan and
let me in during the wee morning hours. Long after Santa had come
and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise's pliant
legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained
of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for
a couple of hours.
The next morning my brother called to say
that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made
him VERY happy but had left the dog confused. She would bark,
start to walk away, then come back and bark some more.
We all agreed that Louise should remain in
her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when
they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.
My grandmother noticed Louise the moment
she walked in the door. "What the hell is that?" she asked.
My brother quickly explained, "It's a
doll."
"Who would play with something like that?"
Granny snapped.
I kept my mouth shut.
"Where are her clothes?" Granny continued.
"Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran,"
Jay said, to steer her into dining room.
My grandfather, a delightful old man with
poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, " Hey, who's the naked
gal by the fireplace?"
I told him she was Jay's friend.
A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by
the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually
flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's
last Christmas at home.
The dinner went well. We made the usual
small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be
killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise like my father in the
bathroom in the morning.
Then she lurched from the mantel, flew
around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa.
The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and
Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began
administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
My brother fell back over his chair and
wet his pants.
Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out
of the room, and sat in the car.
It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and
remember.
Submitted by Sister Wink, Yunkers, NY.
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T'was a Computer Christmas
'Twas the night before Christmas, and
all through the shop,
The computers were whirring; they never do stop.
The power was on and the temperature right,
In hopes that the input would feed back that night.
The system was ready, the program was
coded,
And memory drums had been carefully loaded;
While adding a Christmasy glow to the scene,
The lights on the console, flashed red, white and green.
When out in the hall there arose such a
clatter,
The programmer ran to see what was the matter.
Away to the hallway he flew like a flash,
Forgetting his key in his curious dash.
He stood in the hallway and looked all
about,
When the door slammed behind him, and he was locked out.
Then, in the computer room what should appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
And a little old man, who with scarcely
a pause,
Chuckled: "My name is Santa...the last name is Claus."
The computer was startled, confused by the name,
Then it buzzed as it heard the old fellow exclaim:
"This is Dasher and Dancer and Prancer
and Vixen,
And Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen."
With all these odd names, it was puzzled anew;
It hummed and it clanked, and a main circuit blew.
It searched in its memory core, trying
to "think";
Then the multi-line printer went out on the blink.
Unable to do its electronic job,
It said in a voice that was almost a sob:
"Your eyes - how they twinkle - your
dimples so merry...
Your cheeks so like roses, your nose like a cherry,
Your smile - all these things, I've been programmed to know,
And at data-recall, I am more than so-so;"
"But your name and your address
(computers can't lie),
Are things that I just cannot identify.
You've a jolly old face and a little round belly,
That shakes when you laugh like a bowlful of jelly."
"My scanners can see you, but still I
insist,
Since you're not in my program, you cannot exist!"
Old Santa just chuckled a merry "ho, ho,"
And sat down to type out a quick word or so.
The keyboard clack-clattered, its sound
sharp and clean,
As Santa fed this "data" to the machine:
"Kids everywhere know me; I come every year;
The presents I bring add to everyone's cheer;
But you won't get anything - that's
plain to see;
Too bad your programmers forgot about me."
Then he faced the machine and said with a shrug,
"Merry Christmas to all," as he pulled out its plug
Submitted by Debbie, Middletown, Md.
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