Really, it's two days after Christmas, but I figured no one would mind. I usually try to keep the spirit alive until Valentine's Day, and even then, I like to pretend that it's Santa Claus's older cousin who's handing out cutesy cards and heart-shaped boxes of chocolates.
Unfortunately, Christmas this year didn't/doesn't sit right with me. I feel like I've dropped the ball somehow, with no continual posting about the greatest and most favoritest holiday. My place should have been covered in tinsel, my nights should have been spent drinking cup after cup of hot chocolate, watching "Christmas Vacation" on repeat while wrapping fancy cheese balls and scented candles.
Well, they were, but it wasn't enough. It just didn't feel like ENOUGH. I've shamed myself.
Post-Christmas Blues? Post-Christmas Blues.
And because of it, I'm depressed and really don't give a shit about X-mas right now. It would be like eating too much gingerbread cookies and coffee drenched biscotti, then finding out you would never do that again for another eleven months. I know there's an analogy in there somewhere, but I'm hoping you get what I mean without the endless explanation of why I currently hate everything red and green and Jesus-in-a-manger-y. In a way, I feel like I want to start revolting. Hell, I think I'm rebelling right now, man. I don't care about you, St. Nick. You can sit on it. You can take your big bag of toys and shove it. After sitting on it. Or is it the other way around?
SO SOMETHING TOTALLY DIFFERENT UNTIL NEXT WEEK. Time will have passed, wounds will have been mended, the hurtful things we've said will be forgiven, etc. Plus, I ain't passing on a Christmas Haul Recap. The holidays and the gifts received are meant to be rubbed in the face of everyone else. You're supposed to flaunt that brand new, top of the line iPad like you're the nephew of Steve Jobs.
In high school, my friends and I were really into comic books. Even more so, we were into making our own. Anything to keep our minds off of homework and the daily bullshit of class was heralded and applauded. We'd literally just sit in class and doodle. I seriously can't remember anything from high school -- I have no idea how I graduated.
One of the better ideas was start a comic strip of your own, then give it to a friend to complete. Say, Friend A would start their mini-adventure in first period, pass it off to Friend B, which they would finish with their own special brand of high school lunacy. Pass back to Friend A to enjoy, which would then be given to Friend C and Friend D to enjoy on a "my friend's are a bunch of idiots" level. This is what we did. This is all we did.
Recently, I dug up a bunch of these comics. It was in the process of pulling out the snowflake window clingers and plush Santa dolls (used as holiday movie viewing pillows) that I stumbled upon these raggedy, torn up pieces of paper like a dirty treasure map leading to fortune and glory. Sadly, they lead to my professional and artistic demise. They're that weird.
Even more sadly, none of them are of my own, but they're still fun to look at. I figure the other guys have my work, and I have theirs, which I've decided to post for all the world to see. Not only have I beat them to it, but can take no blame for anything you're about to see. Just be sure to take none of these to heart. There was no rhyme or reason to anything we drew and wrote, because always remember -- we were morons. I can't stress that enough.