KillerWhalePettingZoo

We didn’t have a Christmas tree in our offices this year. I think we’re trying to be non-denominational or some legal bullshit. A tree is probably way cheaper than a Chanukah menorah. Modern menorahs are covered in rhinestones or made out of precious metals. A lot of girls think I’m Jewish; apparently I “look Jewish” whatever the fuck that means. It’s not an ethnicity for Christ sakes. I very well may be 1/64^th Jewish. Might start claiming that shit. But I’m only Jewish when it’s convenient. It’s sort of like declaring a specific minority on college admission applications; there’s usually an option to bubble in “other” and a blank line to write your own response. What are you supposed to put down? Ukranian-post-USSR post-Chernobyl-Navajo-African American-post-hipster-Jew? I wrote “Asshole,” and got a nearly full scholarship to Hawaii Pacific University. But let’s be honest, they’d have to pay me a fortune to go to that shithole of a school and become addicted to ice.

Actually one of my best friends is addicted to crystal methamphetamine. He borrowed $50 “for groceries” and drove an hour to my house to get it. 13 days later he called me from a random hotel room in Palm Springs yelling at me to stop knocking on his door and that he wouldn’t come out. When he got back home he mentioned his AA meetings a lot. I’m not sure if he was just wanted company or was hinting at the fact that most people only go for the free donuts.

Around the holidays last year, I saw a cute checkout girl at the grocery store wearing a Star of David necklace. This was when I was in my scamming prime; I think I was hitting around 90% at getting girls’ numbers. I hustled over to the “ethnic/cultural” food aisle. The manager further segregated the aisle, so if you’re from some bizarre tribe in the Amazon jungle, the store might possibly carry pickled or dried fruit bat, your preference. After a brief search I found a dusty box of industrial-sized Matzo crackers. I plopped the massive package on the moving checkout counter with a marble segregation rod, keeping my kosher pickup line away from some fat bitch with a bunch of Yoplait yogurt. When the brunette went to scan the UPC code, her eyes lit up. I mean, fuck, the box was like $29.99, but since Passover just ended it was on ultra-clearance for $2.75. I may be an asshole, but I’m a frugal one at that. I fed her some bullshit about being Jewish… No you weirdos I didn’t feed her the fucking Matzo crackers right then and there. But I did leave that night with her phone number and promises that I was Jewish and that I used to attend some temple in Upstate NY. God damn, sometimes I sicken even myself.

Anyways…back to the office. We can’t celebrate a specific holiday; otherwise we’d have to expense report all those fucking religious effigies. There is nothing more bizarre than Christmas: slaughtering a forest so that every suburban household can have a dying juvenile pine tree dropping needles and dripping pine sap all over the carpet. Then decorating the plant, and finally placing gift certificates and other thoughtless trinkets around it so some fat child molester can supposedly slide down the chimney in a red suit with all his gifts and leave something in a sock hanging over the mantle.

What about the families without a fireplace? Santa DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK. He just walks in the front door because he’s like the security guard in my apartment complex with a universal key to every lock. Santa and the security guard are probably running the same scam because they both have allegedly stolen food out of my pantry. Kwanza? Shut the hell up you unpatriotic piece of shit. If Catholics have dead plants, and

Chanukah is a Yankee Candle marketing scheme, what do Kwanzaans(?) use to celebrate? I’ll tell you what they have. In our office we’re going to build a plain un-finished wooden bench in the lobby with an engraved copper plate that reads “This is Kwanza; nothing special here. So take a seat motherfucker.”

Oh yea, and about that Jewish girl at the grocery store. I never called her. Why? Well, she’d probably want to share those fucking crackers with me, and I’d rather gnaw on a cardboard Macy’s shirt box than eat one of my garbage pickup lines.