Whaaat? (Holier Than Chow)

Um, guys, I just heard the craziest thing... apparently JESUS is the reason for the season! Christ, I had no idea. Did you?

I mean, surely the real reason for the season (as if the season really needs a reason) is presents and/or alcohol, am I right? And singing. Definitely singing. Oh, and delicious cookies, for sure. And Santa, Santa's a good reason what with the jolliness and all. Mistletoe is pretty high on everyone's list, probably, because who doesn't love a good sneak-attack kissing incident? Turkey and yams, right? All good reasons.

Cranberry sauce, while mildly tasty, is probably not a really good reason for the season, though. I mean, I'm glad they threw it in as a complement, but... cranberry sauce alone can't carry a whole season.

Cheese would be a good reason for a season, but probably not this particular season.

I've heard tell that chestnuts roasting on an open fire might be vying for reason status, but it seems to me that's a rather hazardous event on which to base an entire season.

Getting out of school, man, that's a REALLY good season reason.

But Jesus? Come ON, people. No way.

The Proverbial Witch's Tit

How cold do you think a witch's tit actually is? I mean, if you think about it, she's got all those cumbersome black robes on and is constantly standing over that big iron cauldron just stirring away... I don't think that bitch's witch tits are very cold at all. Maybe when she's flying through the air on her broom and whatnot (drafty little ride), but otherwise I suspect those lil nips are quite warm. The cliche should be changed, probably, to "GREEN as a witch's tit". Because, I know you'll all agree, that's far more interesting to imagine.

My tangentially obscured point is that I'm here at work freezing my ass (which is not green) off and wishing I had a big iron cauldron by which to warm myself (and/or cook up spells). I love winter coats and stripey scarves as much as the next girl, but I hate being cold. It's like, how the hell am I supposed to amuse people with my irreverant myspace blog if my fingers are too icy to type? skjhuiebc. And speaking of witch tits, it takes a lot more effort to pick a bra when your office is eighty-twelve degrees below zero.

I'm just saying, the witch? She doesn't have it so bad. Walk a mile, witchy pants, walk a mile.
(EDIT: Hahaha, you should so try saying "bitch's witch tits" ten times fast...)