My mistletoe has tinea

Christmas time is a stressful part of the year, where money is not as abundant as we would like, and time is a precious resource, like chickens to a chicken farmer during a particularly bad time, like during a fox plague, or if it rained chicken poison or something. So time is a precious resource. And money is scarce, like chickens during the same bad times, with that recurring fox plague and the flood of chicken poison. Right.

So to cut down on stress, and to save you time and money (and possibly chickens), here are Mister Evil Breakfast’s Christmas Tips:

- If you have young children, don’t waste money on buying presents that they won’t remember. Give them a shoebox instead. All kids love shoeboxes. This way, you get a new pair of shoes, and your offspring gets a great present.
- Invite all of your friends and relatives over for Christmas drinks. They will invariably bring food, wine and beer. After an hour, set fire to the couch so everyone has to leave, and you get to keep the food that they brought. You can do this several times as well as eat potato chips for dinner.
- Wrapping paper is both expensive and an environmental disaster. I think that’s why I like it.
- To save money on buying presents, don’t have any friends. Those lonely nights can be spent thinking of the money you’ve saved.
- If you want to get back with an old girlfriend, buy her a kitten or a puppy. That always works.
- Stuck at work and can’t get to the shops? Stationery is always a good idea, as are corporate branded t-shirts and folders.
- Dispel the myth of Santa Claus to the kids in the shopping malls – their tears are all the Christmas joy you will need.
- Don’t open your Christmas cards, but save them for a year and write “Return to sender” on the envelope. You can be thrifty when it comes to spreading good wishes.
- Christmas dinner is traditionally the biggest meal you’ll eat all year, and will probably be the most expensive too. Don’t be afraid to skimp on the trimmings. Instead of gravy, try some tomato sauce. Turkey can easily be replaced with leftover Chinese food, and you’d be surprised how a block of butter with mayonnaise can pass as Christmas pudding with custard. You can keep things traditional yet economical.
- Can’t find that ideal gift for that ‘special someone’? Buy them whatever you bought them last year, and explain that since they said they loved last year’s present so much, you figured they’d be doubly pleased with another one.
- Putting on weight over Christmas is a common occurrence. Not for me though.

Have a Mister Evil Christmas!

Deck the halls

Fa la la la la...

Does anyone think of what Santa might like for Christmas? I mean, sure, the big guy only works one day a year, the rest of it he just sits around, wallowing in his own filth, eating the slow reindeer and scratching his back on leftover Chrissy trees while the elves all bust their asses to make some toys for the good widdle boys and girls of the world. But on that one day, the red blob is a hive of activity, racing from hither to thither on his one-horse open sleigh (or something), punching himself down chimneys and carrying a giant bag o’ goodies around all night. And it’s not like he can start early or finish late, you know. The guy has a fair job ahead of him, and probably deserves some kind of reward.

So for the other 364 days of the year, does he sit around and think, “I’d really like a Playstation this year…” and then write a letter to himself and get one of the elves to put together a video game console for him, then open it on Christmas Day and say, “Wow! A Playstation! What a motherfucking surprise!” Of course not, the poor bastard delivered it to himself. And then he forgot to ask for any games, so for the next year he’s sitting around with his Playstation and wishing that he’d asked for Tony Hawk as well. Then the next year, he gets that from himself (“Wow! Tony Hawk! What a motherfucking surprise!”) and then he realises that he doesn’t have a tv, so he still can’t play it. So the next year he puts a tv on his list. Then he gets his tv (“Wow! A tv! What a motherfucking surprise!”) and then one of the elves tells him they’ve just released the Playstation 3, which is way better than the one he’s just got, and all the elves laugh at him cause he’s playing a crap game machine.

Poor Santa.

A very evil breakfast to you

On Christmas Eve, it’s tradition to leave milk and cookies out for Santa. Bugger that. That’s what the Yanks do. And seriously, do you think he really wants milk when it’s stinking hot outside? Hell no. To quote Ron Burgundy: “So hot. Milk was not a good choice.” Leave the man a beer. And not one of the crap ones left over from last month’s barbie when Uncle Trev brought round a six-pack of Tooheys Red, and then proceeded to hock into your James Boags. Give Santa a couple of nice, cold Crownies or even a Carlton Draught. At the very least, the Carlton has some trivia under the cap. And bugger the cookies. Hit the man with a kebab. Since he’s probably visited about a million houses before yours, and they should have all left him beer, he’ll probably need some kind of post-alcohol feed. Kebab. Garlic sauce. The meat is up to you.

Trust me. A few small changes in your Christmas Eve routine will be the difference between an ugly jumper (cause you need jumpers in Summer) and a Roboraptor.

Milk and cookies? Poor Santa.

T'is the season to be jolly...

Fa la la la la.

Well, it’s getting onto being Christmas again, where we can all go out and eat pig and drink mead and generally be Vikings about the whole world. It comes around the same time every year, but people are always complaining how it “snuck up on them” even though they’re the same people who complain that Myers have had Christmas decorations up since August. Yes, very sneaky. Santa is all about sneaking. A grossly obese man in a big red jumpsuit who flies around with reindeers, lands on your roof and hauls his fat ass down your chimney with a giant sack of presents is indeed the very definition of stealth.

Now, Santa may very well be happy to wear his red suit when visiting the northern hemisphere around Chrissytime, as I hear it gets quite chilly during the Winter. But what happens when he’s flapping around in Australia in 35 degree heat, travelling through the sky at 12 times the speed of sound or something? He’d be sweating like a badger in a wetsuit, and by the time he gets to your place with your pressies, he’d be one angry, hot, pissed off dude, who is more likely to pass out under your tree than leave you a Transformers toy. I’m surprised the smell of him doesn’t wake more people up – ever been next to a fat guy on a bus, train, plane, office, elevator, bench, tree, monkey, volcano or muffin? Yeah, the smell really hits you. Add about a thousand per cent to that and you’ve got Santa’s sweaty arse. I wonder if he gets chafing?

Poor Santa.