Thursday, December 16, 2010

My label printer gets me in trouble...

I have shit-house handwriting. I pretty much always have. It's a mostly childish scrawl that, if it were viewed by a profiler, would likely lead them to deduce I was a man-child who had a fixation on the boobies.

Years ago I decided enough was enough. Through my IT purchase system I put in a request for a label printer ... and just seven short months later it arrived.

The label printer not allows me to neatly print out address labels but instead of inflicting my Doctor's-esq script onto another human being, I can draft small notes to go with documents ... though I admit I have to stick the label onto a post-it so as not to mar the document.

Yes, yes, not exactly carbon friendly. But it saves me grief when people wander back Close Encounters return to the planet earth style with a quizzical look on their face as to what I was trying to write.

As people know I am also mischievous. A rascal. When I was a child of about five or six I was sentenced to star in a nativity play as an angel of the (I presume) Lord. Another parent was heard by my mother to exclaim 'Who on EARTH made Mikey an Angel?!'

The next year I served as the mascot for my primary school's sports team. My costume?

A devil.

Yep, I've served time on both shoulders.

Being the public service, Christmas decorations went up at the start of December. Basic at first, a quiet though overt acknowledgment that stand-down was coming. Then each week more and more decs went up. Now it's a giddy wonderland of Christmas. I half expect to see that fake snow painted in the corners of the windows to represent some bizarro world Christmas where it isn't hot as all fuck.

One of the decorations that re-appeared was this unattractive little effort. It basically looks like a mistake was made at the p0rn factory and they forgot all three holes.

When it appeared, I decided that it needed some enhancement. Since it belonged to E, I printed out a cartoon speech bubble and stuck it on.

The idea being of course that E was "naughty" and Santa was giving her Robert De Niro eye-fingers.


Inflatable Santa re-appeared for Xmas* 2010. He still had last year's speech bubble.

C, late 40's reprobate that I find hilarious, demanded a sequel.

I thought about it. What could Santa say to top that effort?

Then it came to me...

People complained that it was just too creepy. Ah, but I had a counter argument prepared.

'Yes, yes, but you forget one thing. Santa is an anagram ... of Satan.'

Q.E.D mutha fukkers.

* Today I summon the word Xmas in a text. My phone, being a lazy minor effort that has a piss-poor dictionary, suggested the following character combo instead: Wobs. I love it. From now on Xmas is Wobs.

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