Holiday Pajama Party Slay Ride

Candy Canes+Xmas Gorefest - 29 (San Francisco)
Here's the plan:

First off – I don't want to know your name. Names are for bitches and housewives. My dog doesn't even have a name – I just kick it and it moves.

Next step.

I'll suggest we start with a few shots of Jameson. Since I'm too cheap to buy a car – I figured hauling the Christmas Tree by foot up and down Fell Street would be more fun drunk. Since I'm not a dick, I will hold the heavy side – but if the opportunity presents itself to push you into a street sign – I will glad shake hands with the devil.

Back at my house, we will put on our Christmas pajamas. Mine are red with orange reindeer.

You're going to think I'm hot and will try to hang my stocking. I will reprimand you for trying to open your presents early.

I put on the Nutcracker soundtrack.

Mass amounts of whiskey are consumed to the mystical tune of the Sugar Plum Fairy.

The tree goes up. Decorations, cherry-flavored candy canes, white lights. It's beautiful.

You're beautiful. The violins, the lights, and you. I shouldn't have these butterflies yet.

We sit on the couch for awhile. The burning log channel is on with crackling wood on surround sound. My fingers gently brushing back and forth on your neck. You lean your head and rest in on my shoulder.

You puke.

You puke on my hot reindeer pants.

I am not pleased.

You beg for forgiveness. I grant it. On the understanding that we watch a shitty Christmas-based horror film with a title that runs of a bad pun….and cuddle in bed. And, you can't make out with me until it's over or I say so. I want the anticipation to be thick.

I clean up and get into my Christmas boxers. I'm not sure if I like them or not. They're white with green elves on them. I feel like a bitch in them. But – you bought them and I don't want to listen to your shit so I put them on. Plus if you barf again – I have a reason to throw them out.

Everyone wins.

Here are your choices for movies:
I'll admit that when I see gore on any movie – I do get a bit gassy. You'll learn to love it – they always do.

And if halfway through the movie you feel me nuzzling on your neck in our cozy spoon position – please feel free to indulge in an epic make out session while we listen to helpless victims being stabbed to death with icicles.

Or boiled to death in egg nog.

Or chainsawed in half by Ms. Claus.

This could be the most epic date of your life.

And no.

I will not be buying you a present for Christmas.

Editor's Note: Enjoy the The Gingerdead Man Trailer 2005 with the tagline, "evil never tasted soo good!"

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