All I Want For Christmas Is Yo Momma

I mentioned Fake Christmas a couple of weeks ago and yesterday we held this amazing annual event in my flat. In honour of this occasion, my friend Wetsoks wrote a festive poem that will in all likelihood make no sense unless you've been following this blog religiously (memo to self: found Church of Otter and write the Holy Book of Fish Tales shortly after):

'Twas 2 weeks before Fake Christmas and all through Fairytale Land,
Nothing was stirring (except yo mamma's hand),
Fleetches were planning with not even a care,
Soon all the lesbian friends would be there!
An Otter was nestled all snug in her bed,
While Fleetch was there watching, playfully stroking her head.
As Wetsoks and Tanya kit took care of the 'kittens',
Sarahnator was putting on some cosy new mittens.
When out in the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
Otter sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
She flew to the kitchen quick as a flash,
Where D$ha was drinking just a dash.
"Hey gurl! you ready for turducken?"
Otter looked for some buckets to do some fuckin...
With a buzz at the door and a suggestion of strippers,
The lesbians appear in star pants and slippers.
Food cooking in the kitchen, the smell is amazing
Food all through the day, get ready for grazing
"Fake Christmas is here!" Wetsoks cried out with joy
"Peaches and BOOBS and all sorts of new toys!"

I shed a tear of happiness when I read this for the first time. It so delightfully encapsulates everything about this particular group of friends that I love. (Also, it mentions boobs)

Anyway, back to the story. Yesterday afternoon we exchanged gifts. I bought Wetsoks the Harry Potter Cluedo game but of course the Fleetch and I spent hours bastardizing it appropriately and turning it into the mother of all drinking (board) games, complete with an extra card set that we titled The Questions of Doom (which featured both regular questions and special cards we subtitled 'Veritaserum or False' - clearly the Fleetch and I are the coolest people you know) and extra rules for the DA (Dumbledore's Alcoholics) which were specially constructed to get every player drunk in a short amount of time. My favourite rule was "every time any player makes a Yo Momma joke, all players must sip their drink".

Good lord, the carnage.


Fleetch: Okay. Was it...Bellatrix Lestrange... in the Shrieking Shack... with the Jinxed Broomstick?

Wetsoks: Yo momma jinxed my broomstick last night.

Me: DRINK!

Sarahnator: I feel sick.

Tanyakit: That's what yo momma said.

Me: DRINK!

Sarahnator: Oh god.

Fleetch: Can you prove or disprove my theory?

Tanyakit: My cards are all useless.

Me: Just like yo momma!

Wetsoks: DRINK!

Me: (sniggering) I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. Your mother tries really hard. In bed.

Sarahnator: I need to stop.

Fleetch: Buckle up, it's not over yet.

There was a heartbreakingly lovely moment when the Fleetch turned to me and I could see the sweet yearning in her eyes, the beautiful desperation that signals that you have only moments before the Yo Momma joke erupts out of you. It is a tide of hilarity that cannot be contained by a single human form. We shared a silent, gleeful look, before turning back to the group. Everyone else exchanged a glance and raised their glasses wearily without a word.

God bless us. Every one. But especially yo momma.

I'm Dreaming Of A Fake Christmas

I was talking to my friend Wetsoks yesterday about various different things, but mostly about how excited I am that this will be the first year I am involved in Fake Christmas.

Don't get me wrong, I am also looking forward to real Christmas, but since the Fleetch leaves midway through December, I am afraid I may descend into an unyielding despair and spend the remainder of the year padding about the flat wearing only my polar bear onesie and an expression of grief. Anyway, our group of friends has a get-together every year that they have entitled Fake Christmas - given that some of them visit parents/relatives in different countries and often different continents for Real Christmas, it's not always easy to ensure that everyone is together at least once. Fake Christmas apparently has all the trappings of Real Christmas - presents, crappy Christmas films (including an atrocity called 'Peach' starring Lucy Lawless, which I am simultaneously dreading and looking forward to) and plenty of delicious festive food, delivered over one single joyous day.

Wetsoks: We exchange gifts and all the usual stuff. But the best part is the food.

Me: I love Christmas food.

Wetsoks: There are important details that must not be left out. After all, it's not Fake Christmas without pigs in blankets.

Me: Naturally.

Wetsoks: Or Brussel Sprouts.

Me: I'm not quite as keen on those, but sure. Who am I to alter any detail of Fake Christmas?

Wetsoks: One year, we had 'toducken'.

Me: You had....what now?

Wetsoks: 'Toducken'.

Me: ....Um.

Wetsoks: It was a chicken inside a duck inside a turkey.

Me: (gaping) I think my brain just exploded in happiness. OH MY GOD. Seriously? So much meat!

Wetsoks: You know the best part?

Me: (drooling) What?

Wetsoks: We wrapped it in bacon.

Me: (twitching) Stop. Stop. You're killing me. I've never wanted anything so badly before, unless you count that Lionel Richie teapot which says "Is It Tea You're Looking For?"

Wetsoks: And...

Me: There's more?!

Wetsoks: (whispering) Last year we also had.... sausage stuffing.

Me: (squealing like a toddler full of Smarties) This isn't just any Christmas! This is M&S Fake Christmas! This is like if Carlsberg did Fake Christmas! I don't even know what I'm saying anymore!

Wetsoks: Maybe I've overexcited you. You should take off your shirt.

Me: You almost had me. Nice try. Also, we're on the phone. How would that even benefit you?

Wetsoks: You'll do it sooner or later. I just need to wear you down.

Me: Well, this sounds like every relationship I've ever had. What are your thoughts on moving in after the Fleetch leaves?

Wetsoks: I like it but I'm afraid of commitment.

Me: Again, this conversation is familiar. "I fancy you but I don't like making decisions. Take off your shirt."

Wetsoks: Ha! Love is harder than crime. When's your next blog post?

Me: It might just be a crudely-drawn picture of a 'toducken', with hearts around it.

Wetsoks:.... I could live with that.

Me: Sweet.