the last straw!

Those with the great misfortune to have this card delivered to their mailbox this past week...

.. are ever so fortune enough to be related or close to me.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and, in spirit of the card, Happy Kwanzaa!

groooouuuuu

"Life Goals"

A well thought out essay by Neil

Life goals are an important part of life. Life goals are a good thing to have. As Jesus once said, "if the ride is more fly, then you must buy." Or was that Snoop Dog? In conclusion, even if they both said it, the point stands: one must have life goals. Thank you.

... No, seriously, Snoop Dog is right, guys - life goals are important. And I've got em a plenty, do you? For those of you who I have not yet tortured in person, let me explain:

First off, I gots to get married to some cool chick (naturally). Preferably a thin blonde with a little junk in da trunk, but that's beside the point (for full list of requirements please read the entire application). We won't have kids, and instead travel the world doing really cool things, like sponsored jetski sky diving or professional motorcycle polo. Essentially, we're going to be that really cool couple that makes every other couple feel inadequate, and begging to be invited to our posh Mt. Rushmore patio and pool parties. However, since God has it in for me, my awesome wife has to die tragically in some freak accident. I'm thinking maybe a family of bad attitude mongolian death worms make a home in her nose powder, which of course she never used to begin with because she was so hot anyway. She's probably only going to open it thinking it would be a great place to store the last pieces of the crystal skull that we found during an archeological expedition with the Harlem Globetrotters (it doesn't get more awesome than that, really). I'm still ironing that part out, but somehow she's just gonna die.

Now, this is going to happen at a point in which I'll be at that not-old-but-not-young-enough age to start a courtin' women again. And seeing as I just had the best marriage known to man, there's little point in trying to find something to fill that void. So I'm just going to get fat. That's right - just outright give up. I will be the moo-moo draped fat ass in the electric cart taking up the entire pastry and dairy aisles of Walmart. I will be an incredibly hulking fatty. Because, at this point, after living the coolest life ever, what is there to look forward to? Gluttony, my friends.

And while I live the remainder of my chortling years as a gelatinous mess, I will invent was I will call the "fat five", a certain type of high-five only to be performed by the lordiest of lards. Here are the steps to the fat five:

1) First, I must be in a reclined position with all my fat culminating in the neck region. Odds are I'll be in this position anyway, never having the need to leave my electric cart.

2) I spot another fatty, so I say with all my effort: "erghhh phhat phive!" The other fatty will respond with the same phrase.

3) Again, with all my might, and making a sound like "grroooouuuuuuu" I will attempt to raise my arm to give a high five.

4) I promptly give up, and take a sip from my Big Gulp.

The Fat Five, ladies and gentlemen! Things are certainly up for the future!... or out.. wide, maybe.