Christmas isn’t so much a porn holiday, what with that whole virgin birth thing. (Let me tell you, giving birth without at least first getting to have sex? SO NOT COOL.)
And I can’t even really do much with Santa. He’s such a cartoon that I find myself unable or perhaps unwilling to sexualize him. He’s the castrated elf, good for nothing more than a chaste kiss underneath the mistletoe. He comes into our houses and eats our cookies and I suppose I could turn that into a sweet euphemism but it just seems like too much work.
Christmas. Bah. It’s just the glitzy Las Vegas of holidays. Or maybe I’m just pissed my husband has been working 60-hour weeks dealing with all this retail hoopla and I haven’t had regular sex since before Thanksgiving. I suppose this is the time to turn to Porn. Ah, Porn. Whatever would I do without you?
You are my true love. Well, maybe not, but it sets me up for this little jingle I composed for you:
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me
12 Lonely Wanks
a 6 Pack to Die For
and a Goatse for the Very First Time.
Happy Holidays, perverts!