Thanksgiving? More like Shitgiving!

Yello, imaginary Awedience! Santa here.

Thanksgiving is over and you know what I’m thankful of? That it’s over!

Yes, you heard right. I hate Thanksgiving. We’ll, I do like tasty food, but I like tasty food all year long, so it doesn’t count.

Now it is time for a real holiday: CHRISTMAS!!!

Sure, Christmas isn’t yet around the corner, but some start decorating even before Thanksgiving, so don’t judge me. Besides, I’m Santa, which means that I’m allowed to celebrate it whenever I want!

Here at Killing Smokes, we like to celebrate Christmas differently (and by we I mean me, my elves, and other imaginary creatures and friends); what we do is send presents to me instead of the other way around (yes, you guessed right; I mail gifts to myself. It doesn’t get sadder than that, does it? At least I always get what I wished for! That’s something, innit?)

To all you who think that I’m not real, I’d like to tell you that I do, in fact, exist. Sure, I may not live in the North Pole, but my parents’ basement is as cold.

Also, to all little children sending me their wish lists: grow the fuck up! you’ve all been naughty, you get shit this year.

Okay, that was a tad harsh… Let me rephrase:

Instead of being the little egotistical buttholes that you are, think of the little children on Africa that May or may not get a bottle of water this year.

Also, your daddy pretends to be me. He bought you your present last year as well.

Note to self: sober up then blog.

That’s all for today, folks!

Santa out.

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Why, good morning, Imaginary Awedience! Santa here! Came early this year.

Yes, I do realise it might not be what we usually call “morning”, but, for me, morning is the time of day -or night- when you wake up. So, here! Good morning to you all!

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That is my breakfast. Caffeine, Nicotine, and Love. “Why Love?” you ask? “Why not?” I respond.

I woke up with the thought in my head that I had to do something today. Something big. And when I say big, I mean BIG. But what? So I took my notebook and to write down a to-do list. But, in order to make a to-do list, you should know what to do beforehand. So I thought on and on and on and on. And then I knew what to do. You see, Awedience, when you think of something really hard, the whole universe conspires for that to happen. I really wished to think of something to write on my to-do list, and the universe gave that to me, at last…

 

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I automatically had done the first five. I shall rest now, drink some coffee, smoke some cigs, log onto Tumblr for some porn unicorn pictures, and then do the other two left.

 

Thanks for your time, Awedience. Santa Out.

#ImNotCrazy

The Curious Case of Cyberdating

I had a date the other day. From the internet.

Unfortunately, I spaced out of this world and totally forgot about it and I stood up my date. “Well done, Santa,” my self pats my shoulder, “really cool.”

Internet dating. Well, that’s the thing! Sure, we live in the new age of technology and wi-fi and we can now find dates through the worldwide web. I can embrace that concept. But there are two kind of internet dates:

1) set up the date through the internet and meet in person

2) set up the date through the internet and meet through our screens

While I’m okay with the first concept, it’s the second one that baffles me. Isn’t it a little awkward? Just a tad? And if you don’t have a laptop, you’re only taking them to one place: your place. Which is awkward. I always imagine first dates at a restaurant or a coffee shop or the cinema. Heck, even at a supermarket! But at your bedroom through the screen? And how do you compliment her perfume? “I can assume you smell nice”. “Well, I didn’t really shower today, but you can’t tell, can you?”

How do you compliment her dress? “Your torso looks really nice. Can you stand up so that I can look at your arse as well?”

What do you order? “I’m having wine, what about you?” “Ugh… I only have yoghurt left, I think… Let me check.”

There are, of course, the more embarrassing moments… “MUM! Get out, I’m having a date!” “Jerking off to porn is not dating, sweetie!” mum replies.

But, let’s be optimistic. All goes well, you really click and all that jazz… Well, a kiss would be appropriate. What do you do now? Kiss the screen or kiss the camera? Do you grab a little bit of butt? You grab your own and just go with it? What if she’s… liberal and, in a normal situation, she’d invite you over for a cup of coffee? Do you go for cybersex?

I don’t know… Call me traditionalistic if you will, but I think dating is fairly complicated as it is. Adding cyberdating to the mix, it becomes as understandable as women.

Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic, but I prefer aromatic candles, home-cooked aphrodisiac meal, some soft music in the background and no screen in front of me, but a mirror. You gotta love mirrors.

That’s all I had today for cyberdating. Let’s just hope I won’t bail on my date again. (No, my date wasn’t a mirror; I never forget to date myself).

Santa out.

 

“Get out of me,” screams Mr Bed.

“But I don’t want to,” I reply.

“But you have to,” I hear the Mrs Toilet saying, “you’re about to pee your pants.”

“Make some coffee now!” the Miss Coffee Machine commands.

“Come shower, you stink,” says Lady Shower (or my mother; they have the same voice).

“Aren’t you hungry? Cook now!” the Sir Oven repeats on and on.

“New message! New message! Check me!” Mr Telephone shrieks.

“Change your clothes, for god sake!” Duchess Cupboard shakes her head.

* * *

And this is how I wake up every day.

 

Yes, I talk to inanimate objects. And they talk back.

Fine, they do all the talking, I just listen, nod, and never interrupt.

 

Burn.

Yours, Santa.

On death and dying…

Have you ever wondered how people would react if you died this instant? Of course you have! Okay, let’s confess it, it’s a little macabre, but mostly egotistical. We, human beings, are attention whores.

In all seriousness though, I don’t want a grave; I want a mausoleum. A huge angel statue standing on top of it. People can see it from miles away. Aliens can see it from outer space. It will be the First Wonder of the new era, AAB (After Awesome Blogging).

Before I delve into death and dying and all that fun, let’s talk about how much of a narcissist I am. Which is zero. Sure, I count the years BAB and AAB, but is it truly bad? I’ll tell you, no! This blog is awesome, all my imaginary Awedience can tell you that. Even Samuel L. Jackson said so about my blogging skills in an imaginary -yet awesome- film he made. He also tweeted it. Nicholas Cage retweeted it. I rest my case.

So, this is 1 AAB and welcome to the new age. If you want you children born in this year to prosper, you must indeed name them after the new era’s fashion: Killing, Smokes, Awesome, Awerawera, Awerawera, Rawebert, Awendrey, Haweratio. The mascot and saint of this new era is Saint Nichawelas, or else known as Santa Clawes. (You can all call me Santa from now on).

Do you want to baptise you kid with these cool Awesome names? We offer services in several cities around the world, such as

New Yawerk City, New Yawerk

Lawes Angeles, Califawernia

Chicagawe,Illinaweis

Awestin,Texas

Cawelumbus, Awehiawe

Lawendon, United Kindawem

Moscawe,Russia

Raweme,Italy

Barcelawena, Spain

Lyawen, France

Colawegne, Germany

Tawekyawe, Japan

Haweng Kaweng, China

Sawel, South Kaweria

Manadawe, Indawenesia

Gaweld Cawest, Awestralia

Aweckland, New Zealand

 

Back to death and dying and all the fun that idea holds… Imagine you have died and all your loved ones are surrounding your decaying corpse. Well, that must satisfy you. Only if you’re someone from middle class or pretty broke, though. Or if you’re a slave. If you’re some rich newly died shit? Oh, it must hurt to see every other scum of your family that you hadn’t seen in years fighting over the bucks you’re leaving behind. Unless, of course, you’re Patrick Swayze; everyone loves Patrick Swayze.

But what happens when no one’s there? Broke or not, that breaks your little aethereal heart. Or what if they’re all there and having a party? Well, if you were a wild partygoer, then it’s all good, they’re doing it in your dear memory; but what if you were a simple workaholic employee at a bank that never lent anything but fake smiles at work, real frowns at home, and all that with a big fat sleek interest? You’d feel as a wallflower at your own dying party, wouldn’t you?

We all expect great things in our lives and try to put off the idea of dying. But embrace it, because you never know how Dow Jones might go, or when your husband will cheat on you, but you sure know you’ll die some day. So start making friends, making amends… Start loving again, even if your heart breaks. Live, because life could be either long or short. Have a little bit more fun, smile a little more, wear a pink tie at work, dance in the rain. Say “I’m sorry” when you have to, because we all want to see that cold grave surrounded by people for the right reasons. And don’t do stupid stuff because YOLO! Do the right stuff because YOLO (unless you’re Buddhist).

And, above all, don’t forget to change your name to Awesome. I also have a prospectus on changing your religion to Awesomism. It’s Awesome.

Kthnxbai.