Spreading the XXX-mas cheer

The holiday season is finally upon us, that time of year when we overindulge in all things festive, when we eat, drink and be merry to the tune of Bing Crosby wanting for a White Christmas or of John Lennon wishing us a happy one.

It is time, as well, to exchange gifts in the tradition of the Three Wise Men, whose offerings of gold, myrrh and frankincense came hard on the heels of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ being born to His immaculately impregnated mother, the Virgin Mary.

(A side note: Is it sacrilegious to wonder if she was screaming Holy Christ as His head began to crown? And if not, to wonder if immaculate conceptions yield pain-free deliveries?)

In any case, this is the time of year when we present presents, as a sign of love, a signal of friendship and a celebration of the birth of Christ.

Our circle of friends engaged in the exercise last weekend, deciding on a gift card exchange between the bunch of us, with each participant expected to make a $25 contribution in the form of a gift card to the establishment of the purchaser’s choice.

Because rarely am I presented an opportunity to mosey on in to an establishment of ill-repute without having at least some semblance of guilt follow me on the way out, I chose to shell out my 25 sheckles at the Adult Fun Superstore, thinking that ‘the gift that keeps on giving’ could not apply any more beautifully than to a gift card that emanates from a store that specializes in edible underwear and blow-up dolls.

If only these were the worst of my findings as I perused the aisles before making my purchase (in the interest of ensuring that my gift’s recipient would be well-served with the plethora of product that such a place peddles, if you must know!)

I have said on this page before that I don’t fancy myself a prude, but even I had to blush as I came across some of the most absurd toys and titles one could possibly imagine, even for a place where the 18-and-under crowd can do no better than hold the door open for the rest of us.

First the toy—a giant butt plug that even Steven Tyler of Aerosmith fame would struggle to fit between his lips, let alone into the orifice it was designed for. Perhaps its size was not unusual for those in society who fear not travelling the wrong way down what I always thought to be a one-way road, and really, that’s not even what had me perplexed.

Instead, I was left puzzled by the long silky donkey tail hanging from one end of it.

That’s right: A DAMN DONKEY TAIL!

I couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle as I imagined the conversation, originating from either the male or female perspective, asking a partner if perhaps it might not be time to incorporate a little bareback horseplay into the bedroom.

Literally.

How does one respond to that?

Then, as I skimmed my way through the skin flick aisles (again to ensure quality for whomever would end up choosing my gift), I came across an absurdly absurd title that would have left me in stitches were it not for the folks on either side of me who were not, I suspect, in the Adult Fun Superstore’s skin flick section on fact-finding missions, as I was.

On the DVD’s cover, a generously plump (read obese) woman in the advanced stages of undress, staring back at me seductively(?), tongue wagging, giant bosom nearly fully revealed, just above the neatly arranged title written out in cursive font: Pigs in a Blanket!

First donkeys, now pigs.

It was enough to leave me wondering if perhaps I hadn’t taken a wrong turn into Old McDonald’s Farm.

I figured it could only go downhill from there, so I wrapped up my business and quickly made my exit, with neither pork products nor ass appendages to show for my time spent in the Adult Fun Superstore.

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The Christmas season in these parts has thus far yielded a fair share of Christmas cards, each wishing us, in one way or another, “the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye”, as the lovable loser Clarke Griswold put it in Christmas Vacation.

One card, however, did provoke an interesting exchange between Hot Wife and I.

It came as I remarked that a full mop of hair finally appeared to be growing atop the head of the card sender’s up-until-now follically challenged 15-month old child, at least according to the family picture that doubled as a Christmas card.

Me: Will you look at that, he’s finally got some hair.
Hot Wife: Yeah, he’s gruesome.
Me, incredulous: He’s gruesome? That’s harsh.
Hot Wife: He. Grew. Some.
Me: Oh. Yeah. I guess that makes more sense.

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And finally, you will notice that all throughout this post, I have purposefully referred to Christmas as Christmas.

Not as ‘The Holidays’.

Not as ‘The Festive Season’.

I have called it Christmas because that’s exactly what it is.

Political correctness in these parts, and most others I suspect, has made it de rigueur to abstain from using the word Christmas, for fear of offending those in society who share not our affinity for the holiday.

To them, I say ‘Christmas, Christmas, Christmas’.

Still, in the interest of poking some fun at political correctness run amok, a colleague passed along the following holiday greeting, which I could not help but repost here:

Please accept with no obligation, implied or explicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low-stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasion and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all.

I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2011, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make Canada great. Not to imply that Canada is necessarily greater than any other country nor the only America in the Western Hemisphere.

Also, this wish is made without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee.

(Also please consent to overlook the unfortunate fact that this greeting is currently available in English only as the style is so convoluted and tortuous that no self-respecting translator would touch it!!!)