This is timely if you’re Orthodox Christian

Here’s what Santa Claus (MOM) got me for Christmas:

A pretty nifty [read: BALLER] shirt: It’s striped subtley, white, lacks the left-hand-side pocket that most of my “nice” shirts do, and is now pretty much the best article of clothing I own. I’m actually scared to wash it because I assume it will shrink or disappear into an alternate reality, so probably the only time I will have ever worn it was on New Year’s Eve. Still though, baller shirt.

Rise Against Albums: I’ve been hooked on this band for a while, ever since I found out that Santa Claus (MOM) used to work with the band’s drummer Brandon at the local Whole Foods (no shit, my mom is hard core). They’re from Chicago, play super hard core punk rock and generally rock tits off as soon as they collectively awake each morning. So I got an earlier release, Revolutions per Minute, which is a fast-paced, slightly unpolished effort, yet still features one of my all time favorite tracks “Like the Angel,” as well as their cover of Journey’s “Anyway you Want It.” Out of principle, I think punk bands covering pop songs is stupider than hell, but it’s Rise Against, so I really should
just shut the fuck up before Tim stomps my skull into powder. I also got The Sufferer and the Witness, which reminds me of AC/DC’s Back in Black in that every single song could be a radio single. Now I finally have appropriate music to listen to as I haphazardly careen around the streets of Los Angeles.

Boxer shorts and undershirts: Santa Claus (MOM) always gets on me about my pit-stained undershirts, so she got me 7 new Hanes bad boys, as well as five pairs of boxer shorts. The first pair was an independent set that featured a nice blue plaid pattern on them. As is tradition, these blue boxers were my choice when I shot my AIS Insurance commercial on December 28 (ahem). The other four boxers were part of a set that proudly proclaimed on the packaging, and I am not shitting you, “Convenience flap GUARANTEED NOT TO GAP.” This means, wearing one of these pairs of boxers, my cock will never flop out of my drawers and grind bloodily against the interior of my jean zipper, increasing the risk for infection. Ah, a mother’s love.

Beard trimmer: To easily look like this whenever the fuck I want:

And then my sister gave me this cool little booklet with a handmade leather binding that she brought back from Machu Picchu. This, I will pour my deepest and darkest thoughts into, only to be shared with the world after my untimely demise.

Happy New Year!