I wasn't going to drink tonight. I usually don't on Sunday to be fresh for work on Monday and seeing I pretty much knocked back 3/4's of a bottle of the Makers Mark last night I should lay low. I felt relatively fresh this morning considering. I spent 7 hours decorating the Christmas tree today. Approximately 300 or so ornaments, many Shiny Brights Brand, collectible from the 40's, 50's, 60's. I finally finished and sat at the computer to catch up on email and suddenly I hear a Whoosh! and the FUCKING TREE fell down. I had lifted it back up and was crawling around on my hands and knees scooping up the broken devastation and suddenly behind me "Ohhh! Whoa! Whoosh!" my DAD TAKES A HEADER into the Widescreen HDTV reaching for something on the floor. He is crumpled on the floor looking no better than the broken bulbs off the tree. I got him back up and secured in a chair and went back to cleaning up the tree. Lost about 25 or 30 bulbs. Sad. I am now drinking as I write. See the devastation below. That fucker is tied to the wall with wire now. The tree not my Dad.... but he is next. It is no fun decorating a tree for the second time or giving your father a major snuggy by grabbing him by his belt to get him off the floor.
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3 comments:
oh no! this is the saddest entry ever... but at least those styrofoam balls with felt glued on by the grandkids can't break...
Gary, sorry to laugh at your "bad day" but this is one of the funniest things I've heard in a long time!
Funniest damn thing I've read since the Janet Evanovich books! You and Lulu the Hooker should team up, Gary.
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