24 December 2006
[Previously: the semi-secret blog of 'Nick Claus']
The old man is working us to the bone. I’m so dog tired I hardly know which way to fart. If I have to solder another Playstation I’m gonna jam it up his merry twinkling Xmas-hole. Everyone’s pulling triple shifts and we’re up to our freakin pointed ears in reindeer faeces.
I’m blogging from an air-conditioning vent in the main hall while I puff on a pack of Winnie reds. When I finish I need to wrap this laptop up for some over-privileged little shit who should have got a smack upside the head but instead is gonna get $2000 worth of cutting edge IT. But I’ll throw in the DVD-drive jammed with cigarette butts for free.
If I stand up on my toes, I can see making Mrs Claus making rocky-road in the kitchen. Damn I wish those hands were all over my marshmallows right now. Feels like there’s a candy cane in my pants. Wow that Mama Claus is some kind of primo MILF (apart from the hairs on her chin and the fact that she’s got a caboose you could land a sleigh on. But hey, I like my puddings plump.)
I think the old guy is starting to suspect that she digs my little elfin pink-bits. Better get back to it or the jolly fat man will send one of his hench-elves looking for me (fuckn WorkChoices). I don’t need any more trouble after they found the 300 iPods I made with the gay porn pre-loaded…
Update: 7pm. Finally! It’s dark and St Prick is off around the world on his annual gift-giving frenzy. He won’t be back til dawn and then he’ll drink himself into a coma until mid-Jan.
Time to kick back with a monster joint and three-fifths of Jacky D. And if Mrs C is real lucky I’ll let her open her present early…
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
24 December 2006