Merry birthday big boy upstairs


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After getting home from work at the pizzadome at 5am on Christmas morning (I was lucky, I got to leave early!) after dealing with my brother’s intoxicated friends and a strange old man propositioning me in a repulsive and annoying way (and a lot of cheerful happy lovely people too), I grabbed a few hours sleep before getting ready to celebrate that serial lover (he loves us all) Jesus’ birthday.

In our house, that celebration involves getting together as a family (the most important part of course), feasting on the flesh of nearly all of God’s creatures from the fishies to the piggies, pillaging His soil for veggies to accompany the meat fest, sexually harassing his cows for milk for icecream and then basking in the glories produced by the earth-rape that rampant consumerism has bought upon glorious Planet Earth. Not to mention the environmental sin of using wrapping paper, and my mum’s extravagant overuse of sticky tape (she seems to think if every possible gap in the paper is not plugged with tape we will peek or something).

Is gluttony a sin if you are doing it for a party for the big man himself?

Anyway, we had a lovely day.

Pogo opens his present  my new wallet
Britt   bonbon

caviar on egg

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