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How the Obese Lizard Stole Christmas

When my parents told me that George, our morbidly obese bearded dragon, was feeling “festive,” I was a little skeptical.

That is, until I saw this: George proudly perched in the very home he’d decorated with glittery balls and lifeless polar bears for Christmas. ‘Tis the season, after all!


He almost had me fooled. But what I didn’t realize was that George’s 2012 holiday naughtiness was just beginning…


Like trying to convince Santa to bring him on as the official 10th reindeer. (Rudolph’s a total bozo at this point, anyway.)


Or attempting to hide underneath the tree until Christmas morning to scare the willies out of us all…


When George knows full well that his hockey puck-like girth gives him away every time.


It was then that George realized something very important. The holidays aren’t about who buys the biggest gift or donning the shiniest bow. It’s not about the material things or higher status he’d been focusing all that time on.

Nay, you see, what George realized was this: Winning on Christmas isn’t about scaring people, or being BFFs with Santa. It’s about coming home for the holidays and maintaining your status as the biggest, baddest reptile in the joint. And so, he decided to forego the glitz and glam in favor of the most pure form of badass imaginable: au naturale.


With that epiphany, away from the presents George flew! But I heard him exclaim as he drew out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good bearded dragon night!”


The end. (?)

Chris:  I’m watching this music video at the same time I have Ke$ha playing in the background

me:  lololol

Chris:  It’s glorious
omg this video is incredible
why was life soooo cheesy back then?

me:  I feel like O missed it!
Chris:  They’re wearing like over sized sweaters/performance fleece
me:  and I think plastic
and, like, those cargo pants that unzip and become shorts
Chris:  I just saw a Nautica logo
me:  I’ve counted no less than 1 million polyester braids on Chris Kirkpatrick
Chris:  “god sends you his love”
is a legit lyric in this
lance bass
justin timberlake with a black baby
me:  Circa 1998
Chris:  hahah
OK now if you’ll excuse me, I see a link to Taylor Swift’s new video on this youtube page.
gimme 10 minutes and a cigarette break. brb

5 Stages of Running Into Someone From High School

The thing about holidays is this: You will run into someone you don’t want to see.

Because whether you’re home for Christmas or…whatever, you’re home. As in, back in the place where you grew up and went to high school.

Here’s a step-by-step guide of what will happen when that moment comes:

1. The Initial Shock


This is the moment when you first notice the other person across the room and instantly regress to the fat fuck you were in high school. It’s okay, you can get through this!!!

2. Realization That You’ve Won


Oh, shit, actually, upon further inspection, they are now the fat fuck and you have aged into your own hotness.

This feels good. Really good. So good that you might start maniacally laughing and thus have to scrunch your mouth tightly together so people won’t think you’re some hot, crazy bitch.

3. Forced Pleasantries


The problem with staring at someone is that, eventually, they’ll feel the coals of your judging hot eyes burning into them like a poker. When this happens you’ll be forced to actually make contact, turn your grimace into a scary smile and avoid talking about the fact that you hated them in high school. And vice versa.

4. Run Like Hell


The faster you leave, the better. Run hard and for as long as physically possible. The last thing you want is to stay too long and get sucked into a vortex where they continue to drink and do something horrifying, like suggest you two hang out again.

5. Go Big or Go Home


You managed to survive a high school hit and run and lived to tell the tale. Get your ass to the store, buy a studded jacket and some cotton candy, because you deserve to celebrate!

As a side note: If I ran into you this Thanksgiving and we went to high school together, don’t worry, this isn’t about you. It’s about that other person I saw at a bar. That time. At that place. In that thing that never happened.

Foodie Chronicles: Bern’s Steakhouse.

I’m not about to pretend like I’m a foodie, because I’m not. Just this morning I bought sushi from a Publix grocery store, and I know that no respectable foodie would willfully opt for packaged fish.

That being said, I enjoy a nice meal, and so does my best friend, Elisa. We also like to celebrate our birthdays together, because they happen to fall on the same day (January 7th, Capricorn babies, fucking CUTE).

In lieu of Bath & Body works lotion gift sets, we decided to treat each other to a delicious meal at Bern’s Steakhouse.

Neither of us had been before – I dunno, our parents deprived us I guess – but we knew that this was THE premier steakhouse in Tampa. In Tampa, you guys! So, we made reservations 3 weeks in advance, and accepted that 5:30 p.m. was the only time they could squeeze us in. Seriously (?).

We started off with cocktails because, well, it was 5:30 p.m. on a Wednesday and why the fuck not? Then we opened the food menu and started drooling. As we decided on Oyster and Tuna Tartare apps, we also were told that each entree came with the French Onion Soup, their house salad, and a Baked Potato.

The French Onion Soup came in what can only be described as a pie dish made for babies, and tasted like Elle Fanning’s tears (in a great way).

For my entree, I ordered the Lump Crab Cakes which were almost all crab with very little breading. They tasted like magic and I covered them with lemon. Elisa got a filet mignon steak, served medium rare, and I ate a lot of it!

Then we went on this tour of the kitchen, led by a Swedish bus boy who I will call “Alexander Skarsgard.” He showed us where the meats were prepared, where the coffee was roasted (!!!), and told us the meaning of life.

The meaning of life, oddly enough, was to be found upstairs in the dessert room, which is separate from the rest of the restaurant. In the photo above, you can see Elisa and I in our own personal phone booth. Yes, a phone booth. Every table in the dessert room is actually sectioned off for privacy. And there is a telephone where you can summon the waitstaff, adjust music volumes, and speak to Justin Bieber (aka the hostess in the dessert area, who is also his clone).

I ordered the King Midas. Which is carrot cake topped with their homemade macadamia nut ice cream. It was DELICIOUS.

Elisa ordered this wonderful peanut butter truffle thing that was featured on the Food Network show, “The Best Thing I Ever Ate.” And it was, very much, one of the best things we ever ate.

We sat in that restaurant eating for a total of 3 and ½ hours.

I had to unbutton my belly button to make more room for the weight I gained.

Several times during the meal I proposed marriage to Elisa. Every time she accepted. We also discussed the possibility that we had died on the way to Florida, and this place was heaven. We agreed that we were fine with that. Additionally, we now know that every year, in honor of our birthday/Christmas, we will be giving the gift of a Bern’s dinner to each other.

I am very much looking forward to next year.

Happy Birthday best friend!! xoxo