Happy Christmas!

Hangover Ratings

1*
No pain. no real feeling of illness. You slept in your own bed and when you woke up there were no traffic cones in there with you. You are still able to function relatively well on the energy stored up from all those vodka and Red Bulls. However, you can drink 10 bottles of water and still feel as parched as the Sahara.Even vegetarians are craving a Cheeseburger and a bag of fries.

2**
No pain, but something is definitely amiss. You may look okay but you have the attention span and mental capacity of a stapler. The coffee you hug to try and remain focused is only exacerbating your rumbling gut, which is craving a full English breakfast. Although you have a nice demeanour about the office, you are costing your employer valuable money because all you really can handle is some light filing, followed by aimlessly surfing the net and writing junk e-mails.

3***
Slight headache. Stomach feels crap. You are definitely a space cadet and not so productive. Anytime a girl or lad walks by you gag because the perfume/aftershave reminds you of the random gin shots you did with your alcoholic friends after the bouncer kicked you out at 1:45 am. Life would be better right now if you were in your bed with a kebab and a litre of coke watching daytime TV. You've had 4 cups of coffee, a gallon of water, 6 chicken nuggets and a litre of diet coke yet you haven't peed once.

4****
You have lost the will to live. Your head is throbbing and you can't speak too quickly or else you might spew. Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and has given you a lecture for reeking of booze. You wore nice clothes, but you smell of socks, and you can't hide the fact that you (depending on your gender) either missed an oh-so crucial spot shaving, or, it looks like you put your make-up on while riding the dodgems. Your teeth have their own individual sweaters. Your eyes look like one big vein and your hairstyle makes you look like a reject from a second-grade class circa 1976. You would give a weeks pay for one of the following - home time, a cheeseburger and somewhere to be alone, or a Time Machine so you could go back and NOT have gone out the night before. You scare small children in the street just by walking past them.

5*****
You have a second heartbeat in your head, which is actually annoying the employee who sits next to you. Vodka vapour is seeping out of every pore and making you dizzy. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your teeth. Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva, so your tongue is suffocating you. You'd cry but that would take the last drop of moisture left in your body. Death seems pretty good right now. Your boss doesn't even get mad at you and your co-workers think that your dog just died because you look so pathetic. You should have called in sick because, let's face it, all you can manage to do is breathe ..... very gently.

6******
You arrive home and climb into bed. Sleep comes instantly, as you were fighting it all the way home in the taxi. You get about 2 hours sleep until the noises inside your head wake you up. You notice that your bed has been cleared for take off and is flying relentlessly around the room. No matter what you do you now, you're going to chuck. You stumble out of bed and now find that your room is in a yacht under full sail. After walking along the skirting boards on alternating walls knocking off all the pictures, you find the toilet. If you are lucky you will remember to lift the lid before you spontaneously explode and wake the whole house up with your impersonation of walrus mating calls. You sit there on the floor in your undies, cuddling the only friend in the world you have left (the toilet), randomly continuing to make the walrus noises, spitting, and farting. Help usually comes at this stage, even if it is short lived. Tears stream down your face and your abdomen hurts. Help now turns into abuse and he/she usually goes back to bed leaving you there in the dark. With your stomach totally empty, your spontaneous eruptions have died back to 15-minute intervals, but your body won't relent. You are convinced that you are starting to turn yourself inside out and swear that you saw your tonsils shoot out of your mouth on the last occasion. It is now dawn and you pass your disgusted partner getting up for the day as you try to climb into bed. She/he abuses you again for trying to get into bed with lumpy bits of dried vomit in your hair. You reluctantly accept their advice and have a shower in exchange for them driving you to the hospital. Work is simply not an option. The whole day is spent trying to avoid anything that might make you sick again, like moving. You vow never to touch a drop again and who knows for the next two or three hours at least you might even succeed.

Merry Christmas*

* From me ("the wishor") to you ("hereinafter called the wishee") Please accept without obligation, implied or implicit, our best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially-responsible, politically-correct 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 persuasions and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all... and a financially-successful, personally-fulfilling, and medically-uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally-accepted calendar year 2006, but with due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures or sects, and having regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith, choice of computer platform, or dietary preference of the wishee.

By accepting this greeting you are bound by these terms that-

* This greeting is subject to further clarification or withdrawal;

* This greeting is freely transferable provided that no alteration shall be made to the original greeting and that the proprietary rights of the wishor are acknowledged;

* This greeting implies no promise by the wishor to actually implement any of the wishes;

* This greeting may not be enforceable in certain jurisdictions and/or the restrictions herein may not be binding upon certain wishees in certain jurisdictions and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wishor;

* This greeting is warranted to perform as reasonably may be expected within the usual application of good tidings, for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first;

* The wishor warrants this greeting only for the limited replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wishor;

AND,

* Any references in this greeting to "the Lord", "Father Christmas", "Our Saviour", or any other festive figures, whether actual or fictitious, dead or alive, shall not imply any endorsement by or from them in respect of this greeting, and all proprietary rights in any referenced third party names and images are hereby acknowledged.

A man walks in to a kebab shop and is surprised to see Father Christmas serving behind the counter.

"Santa!" he says. "What are you doing working here? Shouldn't you be up at the North Pole preparing for the big day?"

Santa Claus sighs. He's really let himself go. The red suit's got lard and chilli sauce and bits of lettuce all over it. His apron's in a mess and he just looks fed up and like he doesn't want to be serving up kebabs for a living.

"Well," Santa says at last, "the business has gone belly up, the traditional toy industry took a beating. I had to lay off some of the elves, make cut backs in quality and we just lost our competitive edge. Plus we wound up the delivery side and subcontracted out to UPS. But... it didn't help. The receivers came in, asset-stripped the business and we went into liquidation."

"Gee," the man says. "I'm really sorry, it kind of takes the tradition out of Christmas in a way."

"Yeah," says Santa Claus and manages a wan smile. "Well enough of me and my woes. What can I get you?"

The guy says, "I'll have a large Donner."

"Sorry," says Santa. "We're all out of Donner. Will Blitzen do instead?"

The teacher was very curious how each of her students celebrated Christmas. She called on Patrick. "Tell me, Patrick, what do you do at Christmas time?"

"Well Ms. Pelzner, me and my twelve brothers and sisters go to the midnight Mass and we sing hymns, then we come home real late and put mince pies by the back door and hang up our stockings. Then we go to bed and wait for Father Christmas to come with all our toys."

"Very nice Patrick. Now Jimmy Brown what do you do at Christmas?"

"Well, me and my sister also go to Church with Mum and Dad and we sing carols and we get home late. We put cookies and milk by the chimney and we hang up our stockings. We hardly sleep, waiting for Santa Claus to bring our presents. "

Realising there was a Jewish boy in the class and not wanting to leave him out of the discussion, she asked, "Now, Isaac Feldstein, what do you do at Christmas?"

Isaac said, "Well, it's the same thing every year. Dad comes home from the office. We all pile into the Rolls Royce and drive to his toy factory. When we get inside, we look at all the empty shelves and begin to sing 'What a friend we have in Jesus.' Then we all go to the Bahamas."

Getting fit for Christmas

You are recommended to do this three times a week. Begin by standing on a comfortable surface, where you have plenty of room on each side.

With a 5-lb. potato sack in each hand extend your arms straight out from your sides and hold them there as long as you can. Try to reach a full minute and them relax.

After a couple of weeks, move up to 10-lb sacks. Then 50-lb sacks and eventually try to get where you can lift a 100-lb sack in each hand and hold your arms straight for more than a full minute.

After you feel confident at that level, put a potato in each sack.

Death at Christmas

An Englishman, Canadian and an American all have the misfortune to die on Christmas Day. They arrive at the Pearly Gates only to be told by a somewhat wobbly St. Peter "We're closed. Boss's birthday. Come back tomorrow."

Obviously our heroes are a bit miffed at this treatment, so they ring the bell again. After some argument, St. Peter agrees to let them in, provided they bring something festive. So they all fly back to Earth to find something suitable.

The Englishman comes back first. He has a bough of holly. St. Peter nods, but not too vigorously, and lets him in.

Next the Canadian comes back. He has a sprig of mistletoe. St. Peter looks up for a bleary instant and gives him the go-ahead to enter the kingdom of heaven.

Lastly, the American arrives. St. Peter is starting to feel better now, so he detects a rum 'un when he sees that the American is carrying a pair of ladies undergarments (a pair of undergarments from one lady, not from a pair of ladies). "'Ang on, 'ang on", slurs the angel, "They're not festive!".

"Yes they are," replies the American. "they're Carol's".

Christmas with the Skywalkers

After a long, drawn out, light sabre duel, Luke has again evaded the clutches of the evil Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Vader. Hiding in the shadows Luke was surprised to hear the mechanical breathing of his father getting closer.

{fx: heavy breathing in a bucket}
"Luke, I know you are in here !"

Luke does not reply and sits in the dark clearing his mind of all thought to avoid his fathers dark powers.

{fx: heavy breathing in a bucket}
"Luke, I know you are here and I know what you are getting for Christmas!"

Totally confused by this Luke jumps out from his hiding place to confront his father.

"How, how do you know what I'm getting for Christmas ?"

{fx: heavy breathing in a bucket}
"I have felt your presents."

Christmas greetings ... ... from a zoologist: We fish ewe a bear egrets moose panda hippo gnu year.

Name change

This has just been unearthed by Professor Barnabus Squiffus - the great Biblical Archeologist......

On a tiny fragment of Papyrus was found the following,

And Gabriel said unto Mary......

"Oh, and just one other thing Sharon, God wants you to change your name to to Mary."

Fancy Dress Party

I went to the first party of the Christmas season this weekend. It was a Theme Fancy Dress party and I spent ages making my costume.

So I arrived at the party and took my coat off in the hall and then stood there in embarrassment - you know how it is when all the other guests are wearing something totally different to you.

Everyone else was wearing outfits from the 18th and 19th centuries, you know, frills and bodices and flouncy skirts for the women, men in tights and tunics with swords at their sides and there was I, covered from head totoe in cotton-wool and towels (with wings) and with tampons hanging from me by the string thinking "Uhh, so that's what 'Period Dress' means..."

Christmas, eh?

My wife has the same opinion of Christmas as she has about sex!
"Well, that's that over for another year............"

Diamond

A guy bought his wife a beautiful diamond ring for Christmas.

A friend of his said, "I thought she wanted one of those sporty 4-Wheel drive vehicles."

"She did," he replied. "But where in the hell was I gonna find a fake Jeep?"

Queen's Present

What's the Queen giving Camila for Christmas?

A trip to Paris, dinner at the Ritz, and a chauffeur-driven Mercedes.

On Christmas eve, a Scottish father of 4, armed with a shotgun went to his back garden and fired a single shot in the air. He then went back inside and informed his children that Father Christmas had committed suicide.

Rating Your Party

If you threw a party, the worst thing you could have done was throw the kind of party where your guests wake up today and call you up to say they had a nice time. Now you'll be expected to throw another party next year.

What you should have done was throw the kind of party where your guests wake up several days from now and call their lawyers to find out if they've been indicted for anything. You want your guests to be so anxious to avoid a recurrence of your party that they immediately start planning parties of their own, a year in advance, just to prevent you from having another one.

So next time, make sure your party reaches the correct Festivity Level:

Festivity Level One:

Your guests are chatting amiably with each other, admiring your Christmas-tree ornaments, singing carols around the upright piano, sipping at their drinks and nibbling at hors d'oeuvres.

Festivity Level Two:

Your guests are talking loudly - sometimes to each other and sometimes to nobody at all, rearranging your Christmas-tree ornaments, singing "I Gotta Be Me" around the upright piano, gulping their drinks and wolfing down hors d'oeuvres.

Festivity Level Three:

Your guests are arguing violently with inanimate objects, singing "I Can't Get No Satisfaction," gulping other people's drinks, wolfing down Christmas-tree ornaments and placing hors d'oeuvres in the upright piano to see what happens when the little hammers strike.

Festivity Level Four:

Your guests, hors d'oeuvres smeared all over their naked bodies, are performing a ritual dance around the burning Christmas tree. The piano is missing.

You want to keep your party somewhere around Level Three, unless you rent your home and own firearms, in which case you can go to Level Four. The best way to get to Level Three is eggnog.

Eggnog is a traditional holiday drink invented by the English. Many people wonder where the word "eggnog" comes from. The first syllable comes from the English word "egg," meaning, "egg." I don't know where the "nog" comes from.

To make eggnog, you'll need rum, whiskey, wine, gin and, if they are in season, eggs. Combine all ingredients in a large, festive bowl. Then induce your guests to drink this mixture.

If your party is successful, the police will knock on your door, unless your party is very successful, in which case they will lob tear gas through your living-room window. As host, your job is to make sure they don't arrest anybody. Or if they're dead set on arresting someone, your job is to make sure it isn't you. The best way to do this is to show a lot of respect for their uniforms and assure them you're not doing anything illegal. Here's how to handle it:

Police: Good evening. Are you the host?

You: No.

Police: We've been getting complaints about this party.

You: About the drugs?

Police: No.

You: About the guns, then? Is somebody complaining about the guns?

Police: No, the noise.

You: Oh, the noise. Well, that makes sense, because there are no guns or drugs here. (An enormous explosion is heard in the background.) Or fireworks. Who's complaining about the noise? The neighbours?

Police: No, the neighbours fled inland hours ago. Most of the recent complaints have come from Pittsburgh. Do you think you could ask the host to quiet things down?

You: No problem. (At this point, a Volkswagen bug with primitive religious symbols drawn on the doors emerges from the living room and roars down the hall, past the police and out the front door onto the lawn, where it smashes into a tree. Eight guests tumble out onto the grass, moaning.) See? Things are starting to wind down.

Reindeer

What do the female reindeer at night time ??

Go into town and blow a few bucks.

25 Christmas ideas to torture your roomate...

1. Claim you were a Christmas tree in your former life. If s/he tries to bring one into the room, scream bloddy murder and trash on the floor.

2. Go to the mall with your roomate and sit on Santa's lap. Refuse to get off..

3. Wear a Santa suit all the time. Deny you're wearing it..

4. Sit in a corner in the fetal position rocking back and forth chanting, "Santa Claus is coming to town, Santa Claus is coming to town...".

5. Hang mistle-toe in the doorway. When your roomate enters or leaves the room, plant a wet one on his/her lips..

6. Hang a stocking with your roomates name on it. Collect coal and sharp objects in it. If s/he asks, say "you've been very naughty this year.".

7. Paint your nose red and wear antlers. Constantly complain about how you never get to join in on the reindeer games..

8. Make conversation out of Christmas Carols. (I.E. "You know, I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistle-toe last night.").

9. Wrap yourself in Christmas lights and roll around in the snow..

10. Sing: "All I want for Christmas is my roomate's two front teeth...".

11. Give your roomate the gifts from the twelve days of Christmas song..

12. Build a snowperson with your roomate and place a hat on its head. When it doesn't come to life, cry hysterically "it didn't work!".

13. Whip your roomate screaming "now Dasher, now Dancer, now Donner, and Blitzen, etc.".

14. Tear down all your roomate's Christmas decorations yelling "Bah Humbug!".

15. Wake up every morning screaming "Ghost of Christmas Future, please have mercy on my soul!".

16. Tell your roomate you're moving out. Santa's buying you a house on 34th Street..

17. Pin a pointsetta to your lapel..

18. Make anatomically correct gingerbread people and eat the best parts first..

19. Put on a fake white beard and insist that all your roomate's friends "give it a yank.".

20. Ring jingle bells maniacally saying "every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings.".

21. Stand in front of the mirror reciting "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" over and over in your underwear..

22. Smoke mistle-toe. Do what comes naturaly..

23. Watch your roomate when s/he is sleeping. When s/he wakes up sing, "he sees you when you're sleeping...".

24. Steal a life size nativity scene and display it in your room. When your roomate asks, tell him/her "I had to let them stay here, there's no room at the inn.".

25. When your roomate goes to the bathroom, rearrange his/her posessions. Tell him/her that Santa's elves must have done it..

Bernard

With Xmas just around the corner, will you all please spare a thought for Bernard the Brown-nosed Reindeer.

Bernard's the one behind Rudolph but he can't stop as fast !!

"Jesus and the Elves"

And Joseph went up from Galilee to Bethlehem with Mary, his espoused wife, who was great with child. And she brought forth a son and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger because there was no room for them in the inn. And the angel of the Lord spoke to the shepherdsand said, "I bring you tidings of great joy. Unto you is born a Savior,which is Christ the Lord."

"There's a problem with the angel," said a Pharisee who happened to bestrolling by. As he explained to Joseph, angels are widely regarded as religious symbols, and the stable was on public property where such symbolswere not allowed to land or even hover.

"And I have to tell you, this whole thing looks to me very much like aNativity scene," he said sadly. "That's a no-no, too." Joseph had a brightidea. "What if I put a couple of reindeer over there near the ox and ass?" he said, eager to avoid sectarian strife. "That would definitely help," said the Pharisee, who knew as well as anyone that whenever a savior appeared, judges usually liked to be on the safe side and surround it with deer or woodland creatures of some sort. "Just to clinch it, throw in a candy cane and a couple of elves and snowmen,too," he said. "No court can resist that."

Mary asked, "What does my son's birth have to do with snowmen?" "Snowpersons," cried a young woman, changing the subject before it veered dangerously toward religion. Off to the side of the crowd, a Philistine waspainting the Nativity scene. Mary complained that she and Joseph looked too tattered and worn in the picture. "Artistic license," he said. "I've got to show the plight of the haggard homeless in a greedy, uncaring society inwinter," he quipped. "We're not haggard or homeless. The inn was just full," said Mary. "Whatever," said the painter.

Two women began to argue fiercely. One said she objected to Jesus' birth "because it privileged motherhood." The other scoffed at virgin births, but said that if they encouraged more attention to diversity in family forms and the rights of single mothers, well, then, she was all for them. "I'm not a single mother," Mary started to say, but she was cut off by a third woman who insisted that swaddling clothes are a form of child abuse, since they restrict the natural movement of babies.

With the arrival of 10 child advocates, all trained to spot infant abuse and manger rash, Mary and Joseph were pushed to the edge of the crowd, where arguments were breaking out over how many reindeer (or what mix of reindeer and seasonal sprites) had to be installed to compensate for the infant's unfortunate religious character.

An older man bustled up, bowling over two merchants, who had been busy debating whether an elf is the same as a fairy and whether the elf/fairy should be shaking hands with Jesus in the crib or merely standing to the side, jumping around like a sports mascot.

"I'd hold off on the reindeer," the man said, explaining that the use of asses and oxen as picturesque backdrops for Nativity scenes carries the subliminal message of human dominance. He passed out two leaflets, one denouncing manger births as invasions of animal space, the other arguing that stables are "penned environments" where animals are incarcerated against their will. He had no opinion about elves or candy canes.

Signs declaring "Free the Bethlehem 2" began to appear, referring to the obviously exploited ass and ox. Someone said the halo on Jesus' head was elitist. Mary was exasperated. "And what about you, old mother?" she said sharply to an elderly woman. "Are you here to attack the shepherds as prison guards for excluded species, maybe to complain that singing in Latin identifies us with our Roman oppressors, or just to say that I should have skipped patriarchal religiosity and joined some dumb new-age goddess religion?"

"None of the above," said the woman, "I just wanted to tell you that the Magi are here." Sure enough, the three wise men rode up. The crowd gasped, "They're all male!" And "Not very multicultural!" "Balthasar here is black," said one of the Magi. "Yes, but how many of you are gay or disabled?" someone shouted. A committee was quickly formed to find an impoverished lesbian wise-person among the halt and lame of Bethlehem.

A calm voice said, "Be of good cheer, Mary, you have done well and your son will change the world." At last, a sane person, Mary thought. She turned to see a radiant and confident female face. The woman spoke again: "There is one thing, though. Religious holidays are important, but can't we learn to celebrate them in ways that unite, not divide? For instance, instead of all this business about 'Gloria in excelsis Deo,' why not just 'Season's Greetings'?"

Mary said, "You mean my son has entered human history to deliver the message, 'Hello, it's winter'?" "That's harsh, Mary," said the woman. "Remember, your son could make it big in midwinter festivals, if he doesn't push the religion thing too far. Centuries from now, in nations yet unborn, people will give each other pricey gifts and have big office parties on his birthday. That's not chopped liver."

"Let me get back to you," Mary said.

Christmas Gift

A man goes into a pet shop to buy his wife a gift. So he asks the clerk for something special. The clerk walks over to the bird section.

"This is Ches. He was trained to sing Christmas carols. Watch."

The clerk lights a match and puts it under one of Ches' feet. The parrot immediately starts to sing 'Jingle Bells'.

"Why that's amazing!", exlaims the guy.

The clerk lights another match and puts it under the other foot. This time the parrot starts singing 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.'

By this time the man is sold on the parrot, and so he pays the clerk and takes the parrot home to his wife. He lights a match and demonstrates Ches' unique ability. The guy then lights a second match and does the same thing. The wife and the guy enjoy the evening with their new pet.

A couple of days later, the wife asks the man, "What would happen if you put a match between his feet?"

The guy shrugs his shoulders and walks over to Ches, lights a match, and puts it between the parrot's feet.

"Chesnuts roasting on an open fire ....!"

Turkey Kills!

To you turkey eaters, here's an early Christmas warning: Turkey kills! Just like crack, like alcohol, like handguns. Oh, it seems innocent. But turkey contains tryptophan. Tryptophan (n.): a crystalline amino acid, C11H12N2O2, that is widely distributed in proteins and which can cause drowsiness if ingested.

So picture this: You're with the in-laws, knocking back the white meat. The dark meat. The cranberry sauce. The roast potatoes And then more fowl. You don't realize how much turkey you've had until it's too late. Way too late. It's time for you to drive home. But you're in no condition. You can't keep your eyes open. Your head starts to nod. Where was that turn? It's right up here somewhere... And that's the last thing you'll think as the 18-wheel semi hits you broadside. Knocking the stuffing right back out of your ass. Don't let this happen to you!

Panty Liners
Always Ultra have announced new "Festive Pantie Liners" which play "Jingle Bells" when they're full up.

But it's just for the Christmas period!

Christmas
I know it *must* be Christmas now.......

The dustmen are speaking to me.............

Danish Beer
I was travelling by rail from Gothenburg to Stockholm, and fell into conversation with a couple of local guys. One of them, Sven, was a typically mild and laid-back Swede, but the other, Olf, was more of an individualist. He was on his way back from a Fifties revival weekend in England, and was dressed the part - winkle-pickers, Teddy-boy drapes, DA hairstyle - the lot. He was getting fedup with the odd looks and remarks from his fellow passengers. and was beginning to get quite offensive in his replies.

I bought them both a beer, but no sooner had we cracked open the cans and begun to drink them, then Olf spluttered, shoved down the window and hurled his can out. "Bloody foul rubbish!" he shouted, "why doesn't this line stock decent Danish Railways lager?".

"Goodness", I remarked to Sven, "he seems to have firm opinions on this!".

"Oh yes", said Sven, "Rude Olf the Ted knows train beer".

Chipminks Roasting On An Open Fire

(Sung to the tune "The Christmas Song" by Nat "King" Cole)

Chipmunks roasting
on an open fire.
Their eyes bulge out,
as they explode.

Machine gun fire,
opens up on the crowd.
And folks fall down
like dominos.

Everybody knows,
an uzi and some hand grenades,
help to make the season bright.

Tiny tots,
bound and gagged in their beds,
will find it hard to sleep, tonight.

They know that Santa's
on his way.
He's got a chainsaw,
and he's gonna make 'em pay.

And every mother's child
is gonna spy,
To watch their Daddy shoot
those reindeer from the sky...

And so I'm offering
this simple phrase.
For the tots by now,
are turning blue.

Although it's been said
many times many ways...

Merry Christmas.... to You.