Happy effin holidays

Season's Greetings, readers. As we rapidly approach the holidays (Candy Canes are already in Rite Aid . . . why not bust out the Cadbury Creme Eggs while we're at it? They are creamy and delicious, like a nice Hispanic girl. If manjuice tasted like a Creme Egg, there'd be no babies), my father has taken it upon himself to disown my sister. Mind you, this time last year, he'd disowned me due to what I'll refer to as the "Loehmann's Incident." Occasionally I don't wear underwear and my dad, who was assisting me in coatshopping, watched me bend over to pick something up and apparently saw more than plenty. He didn't speak to me for a week and then accused me of prostituting myself on the streets of New York City. Happy Thanksgiving! This year, my sister told Ron that she was going to move in with her fiancee and live with him in the six months prior to their wedding. Ron told my sister that she clearly had lost all respect for herself and said a few other choice things as well along the lines of "you're a whore." Mind you, my sister is 34, financially independent of my father, and dare I suggest it, AN ADULT. Again, Happy Fucking Holidays!

Some of you have been inquiring if I'll be having a threesome. My immediate answer: no. I'm leaving for Virginia in a few hours to watch a married friend run the Richmond Marathon. I deflowered him about 10 years ago and he was rather nervous. Ever since he's been asking if he can have a threesome with him and his wife. I know he's kidding, though. As I sit here, my friend Gabe asked me if he smelled like ass and put his crotch near my face. Then, his ass. You know, he is a friend and yes, I used to put my face near his boyparts but somewhere, you got to draw the line.