Christmas has found my last nerve and is not tap-dancing upon it with golf cleats.
I have broken out the hard liquor (Jameson's Irish Whiskey, raided from my father's booze cabinet) in an attempt to chill the fuck out, because if I don't I'm going to end up on the roof taking potshots at Christmas decorations with my Mosin.
If I disappear for a few days, please check Facebook. If I'm active there, then I'm just having a bad day and will get to my blog when I can. If I'm not, then I'm probably in jail -- send lawyers and money.
I used to love Christmas as a kid. Then, sometime after college, it all changed. It became a high-stress assault on my senses and wallet and now I hate it. And it's only going to get worse, as CarolFest 2013 will start any day now.
I need a vacation from this holiday.