Me. I have chicken pox.
Yes, CHICKEN POX. On Xmas Eve. In all my 40 years of existence I never had it, and now I catch it just in time to miss spending Christmas with my loved ones.
:thud:
I don’t feel THAT bad, but it’s a bummer. I’m trying to cheer myself up by posting here, so don’t mind me.
Hmm. What could I do to make this thread more than just another whine fest?
I know! Let’s post stupid christmas songs! How about…
Redneck 12 days of Christmas
(Larry the Cable Guy) Wow, somebody done been to the WalMart!
(Jeff Foxworthy) Man, this is the stuff I got for Christmas.
Larry: Well you cleaned up! Whadya git?
Five flannel shirts
Four big mud tires
Three shotgun shells
Two hunting dogs
… And some parts to a Mustang GT.
(Larry) Hey Bubba, you got gypped – there’s 12 days to Christmas.
(Jeff) I know that, I got it covered. Look over in the corner.
(L) That’s yours too?
(J) Yea!
Chorus:
Twelve-pack of Bud
Eleven Wrastling tickets
Ten o’ Copenhagen
Nine years probation
Eight table dancers
Seven packs of Redman
Six cans of Spam
Five flannel shirts!
Four big mud tires
Three shotgun shells
Two hunting dogs
… And some parts to a Mustang GT!
(L) Man, this ain’t normal Christmas presents!
(J) No, they’re redneck gifts!
(L) Redneck gifts?
(J) Yea, you know, like
if you buy your wife earrings that double as fishing lures.
Or, if you can burp the entire chorus of “Jingle Bells”
Perhaps if you think “The Nutcracker” is something you did off a high-dive.
Or, if you’ve ever misspelled something in Christmas lights.
Or, if you leave cold beer and pickled eggs for Santa Claus.
(L) What’s wrong with that?
(J) I didn’t say anything wrong with it…
It’s hard to beat…
Chorus:
Twelve-pack of Bud
Eleven Wrastling tickets
Ten o’ Copenhagen
Nine years probation
Eight table dancers
Seven packs of Redman
Six cans of Spam
Five flannel shirts!
Four big mud tires
Three shotgun shells
Two hunting dogs
… And some parts to a Mustang GT!
(L) Well, you can’t really consider it a Christmas
‘less you go down to the penitentiary and visit your mama.
(J) You’re not listenin’ to me!
Get the car key outta your ear.
That’s where the nine years probation comes in…
I’m gonna do it for ya again.
Now listen…
Chorus:
Twelve-pack of Bud
Eleven Wrastling tickets
Ten o’ Copenhagen
Nine years probation
Eight table dancers
Seven packs of Redman
Six cans of Spam
Five flannel shirts!
Four big mud tires
Three shotgun shells
Two hunting dogs
… And some parts to a Mustang GT!
Wil: Merry Xmas, everybody!