Abominal Snowman Queefs all over Portland, Forces Families Together for Days at a Time

I hold all of you soft-hearted, tralalala fucks from Portland responsible for this Arctic fuckery. Your naive wishes for a white Christmas have come true and you've taken the rest of us poor bastards with a vague idea of what snow really involves down with you. There's a special place in the toilet closet in hell for Matt Savino and the rest of the Channel 8 weather team.

So, It's a Pier 1 Christmas here at the Morris house. Why, you ask? Because Pier 1 is the only store that I could snowshoe to without loosing a ball to frostbite. So, Dad, enjoy your heavily-discounted matching cheese knifes with ACTUAL plastic cheese figurine handles. And Mom, I KNOW you're going to LOVE this life-sized papier mache baby giraffe. It will be an amazing bra holder for when you get home from work and immediately whip off your brazier, often times before removing your coat.

I'm aware that you were both hoping for watches this year, but, if we're being honest, you were never getting watches. I work at a Community College, not the US Mint, you greedy bastards.

You know, it's true what they say; the holidays really are a time for miracles. For instance, it's a miracle that I have not shit my pants in the middle of the night after eating three squares of egg nog and pie every day. Oh, and my Sleepy Time Tea-induced sexual nightmares staring Gwen Eiffel have tapered off...miracle.