Welcome to Gaia! ::

*steps on to the stage*

Ummm...I'll be singing "Let's Have a Patrick Swayze Christmas", by Crow T. Robot.

*sings*


Open up your heart and let the Patrick Swayze Christmas in.
We'll gather at the Roadhouse with our next of kin.
And Santa can be our regular Saturday night thing.
We'll decorate our barstools and gather round and sing.
Oh, let's have a Patrick Swayze Christmas this year!
Or we'll tear your throat out and kick you in the ear!
It's my way or the highway, this Christmas at my ba-ha-haar.
I'll have to smash your kneecaps if you bastards touch my car!
I got the word that Santa has been stealing from the till.
I think that that right jolly old elf better make out his will, ohh,
Oh, let's have a Patrick Swayze Christmas, one and all.
And this can be the haziest...
This can be the laziest...
This can be the Swayziest
Christmas of them aaallllllllll!"

Ah, Santa Claus Conquers the Martians. Our biggest holiday tradition in my household. heart

Um....now I'll sing "Swiss Colony Beef Log", by Eric Cartman.....

*sings*

Stockings are hung on the chimney,
And the presents are under the tree,
And mama's in the kitchen
Making some herbal tea.

Windows are covered with frost
And the candles are all alight,
But as I wander through this quiet house,
Something just doesn't seem right.

You see, every year, the neighbors bring us
A Swiss Colony Beef Log.
But the neighbors aren't around (around, around)
There's no Beef Log to be found this year.

Christmas isn't Christmas
Without a Swiss Colony Beef Log.
Without those cheeses and meats
I don't think I can get along.

Mother tries to comfort me;
She says "Here, Son, have some eggnog."
I ******** hate eggnog, seriously.

But what do I see
Underneath the tree?
Grandma got a Swiss Colony Beef Log just for me!
Ah, ah, ah, Baby!!

Swiss Colony Beef Log, baby!
That's what Christmas is all about!
My prayer has finally come in a Beef Log baby!
Makes a little boy scream and shout!

Deck the halls with boughs of Swiss Colony!
Fa-la-la-la-la La-la-la-la!

12 Days of Christmas, Cajun Style


Day 1

Dear Emile, Thanks for da bird in the Pear tree. I fixed it las
night with dirty rice an it was delicious. I doan tink the Pear
tree would grow in de swamp, so I swapped it for a Satsuma.

Day 2

Dear Emile, Your letter said you sent 2 turtle dove, but all I got
was 2 scrawny pigeon. Anyway, I mixed them with andouille and made
some gumbo out of dem.

Day 3

Dear Emile, Why doan you sen me some crawfish? I'm tired of eating
dem darned bird. I gave two of those prissy French chicken to Mrs.
Fontenot over at Grand Chenier, and fed the tird one to my dog,
Phideaux. Mrs. Fontenot needed some sparring partners for her
fighting rooster.

Day 4

Dear Emile, Mon Dieux! I tole you no more of dem bird. Deez four,
what you call "calling bird" wuz so noisy you could hear dem all
da' way to Lafayette. I used they necks for my crab traps, and fed
the rest of dem to the gators.

Day 5

Dear Emile, You finally sent something useful. I liked dem golden
rings, me. I hocked dem at da' pawn shop in Sulphur and got enough
money to fix the shaft on my shrimp boat, and to buy a round for da
boys at the Raisin' Cane Lounge. Merci Beaucoup!

Day 6

Dear Emile, Couchon! Back to da birds, you coonass turkey! Poor
egg sucking Phideaux is scared to death ah dem six goose. He try
to eat they eggs and they pecked the heck out ah his snout. Dem
goose are damm good at eating cockroach around da' house, though.
I may stuff one ah dem goose with erster dressing to serve him on
Christmas Day.

Day 7

Dear Emile, I'm gonna wring your fool neck next time I see you.
Ole Boudreaux, da mailman, is ready to kill you, too. The crap
from all dem bird is stinkin up his mailboat. He afraid someone
will slip on dat stuff and gonna sue him. I let dem seven swan
loose to swim on da bayou and some stupid duck hunter from
Mississippi done blasted dem out da water. Talk to you tomorrow.

Day 8

Dear Emile, Poor ole Boudreaux had to make 3 trips on his mailboat
to deliver dem 8 maids-a-milking & der cows. One of dem cows got
spooked by da alligators and almost tipped over da boat. I doan
like dem shiftless maids, me. I told dem to get to work gutting
fish and sweeping my shack--but dey say it wasn't in their
contract. They probably tink they too good to skin all dem nutria
I caught las night.

Day 9

Dear Emile, What you trying to do? Boudreaux had to borrow da
Cameron Ferry to carry these jumping twits you call lords-a-leaping
across da bayou. As soon as dey got here dey wanted a tea break and
crumpets. I doan know what dat means but I says, "Well la di da.
You get Chicory coffee or nuthin." Mon Dieux, Emile, what I'm gonna
feed all these bozos? They too snooty for fried nutria, and da cow
ate up all my turnip green.

Day 10

Dear Emile, You got to be out of you mind. If da mailman don't
kill you, I will. Today he deliver 10 half nekkid floozies from
Bourbon Street. Dey said they be ladies dancing" but they doan act
like ladies in front of dem Limey sailing boys. Dey almost left
after one of them got bit by a water moccasin over by my outhouse.
I had to butcher 2 cows to feed toute le monde (everybody) and get
toilet paper rolls. The Sears catalog wasn't good enough for dem
hoity toity lords. Talk at you tomorrow.

Day 11

Dear Emile, Where Y'at? Cherio and pip pip. You 11 Pipers Piping
arrived today from the House of Blues, second lining as dey got off
da boat. We fixed stuffed goose and beef jumbalaya, finished da
whiskey, and we're having a fais-do-do. Da' new mailman drank a
bottle of Jack Daniel, and he's having a good old time dancing with
the floozies. Da' old mailman done jump off the Moss Bluff Bridge
yesterday, screaming you name. If you happen to get a mysterious
looking, ticking package in da mail, don't open it.

Day 12

Dear Emile, Me I'm sorry to tell you--but I am not your true love
anymore. After the fais-do-do, I spent da night with Jacque, the
head piper. We decide to open a restaurant and gentlemen's club
on the bayou. The floozies--pardon me--ladies dancing can make $20
for a table dance, and the lords can be the waiters and valet park
da boats. Since da' maids have no more cows to milk, I trained
dem to set my crab traps, watch my trotlines, and run my shrimping
business. We'll probably gross a million dollars next year.

rofl Merry Christmas!

Christmastime in Hell....

String up the lights and light up the tree
We're going to make some revelry
Spirits are high, so I can tell
It's Christmas time in hell!

Demons are nicer as you pass them by
There's lots of demon toys to buy
The snow is falling and all is well
It's Christmas time in hell!

There goes Jeffery Dahmer,
With a festive Christmas ham
After he has sex with it,
He'll eat up all he can.

And there goes John F. Kennedy
Caroling with his son
Reunited for the holidays
God bless us, everyone!

Everybody has a happy glow
Let's dance in blood and pretend its snow
Even Mao Tse-Tung is under the spell
It's Christmas time in hell!

God cast me down from Heaven's door
To rule in hell for evermore
But now I'm kinda glad that I fell
'Cause It's Christmas time in hell!

Here's a rack to hang the stockings on
We still have to shop for Genghis Kahn!
Michael Landon's hair looks swell!
It's Christmas time in hell!

There's Princess Diana
Holding burning mistletoe
Over poor Gene Siskel's head
Just watch his weenie grow!

For one day we all stop burning
And the flames are not so thick
All the screaming and the torture stops
As we wait for old Saint Nick!

So string up the lights and light up the tree
We're damned for all eternity
But for just one day all is well
It's Christmas time in hell!

We've got to toast together, and make it quick!
We've gotta make room for Andy d**k.
Wake his mother and ring the bell

It's Christmas time...
Christmas time...
It's Christmas time in hell!

When I was small I believed in Santa Claus
Though I knew it was my dad
And I would hang up my stocking at Christmas
Open my presents and I'd be glad

But the last time I played Father Christmas
I stood outside a department store
A gang of kids came over and mugged me
And knocked my reindeer to the floor

They said:
Father Christmas, give us some money
Don't mess around with those silly toys.
We'll beat you up if you don't hand it over
We want your bread so don't make us annoyed
Give all the toys to the little rich boys

Don't give my brother a Steve Austin outfit
Don't give my sister a cuddly toy
We don't want a jigsaw or monopoly money
We only want the real McCoy

Father Christmas, give us some money
We'll beat you up if you make us annoyed
Father Christmas, give us some money
Don't mess around with those silly toys

But give my daddy a job 'cause he needs one
He's got lots of mouths to feed
But if you've got one, I'll have a machine gun
So I can scare all the kids down the street

Father Christmas, give us some money
We got no time for your silly toys
We'll beat you up if you don't hand it over
We want your bread so don't make us annoyed
Give all the toys to the little rich boys

Have yourself a merry merry Christmas
Have yourself a good time
But remember the kids who got nothin'
While you're drinkin' down your wine

Father Christmas, give us some money
We got no time for your silly toys
Father Christmas, please hand it over
We'll beat you up, so don't make us annoyed

Father Christmas, give us some money
Don't mess around with those silly toys
We'll beat you up if you don't hand it over
We want your bread, so don't make us annoyed
Give all the toys to the little rich boys

Slashing through the Orcs
With a good two-handed blade
Over corpses we go
And through the gore we wade
Mace on helmet rings
Making bodies fly
What fun to sing our SLAYING song
And watch these suckers DIE!

(chorus)
Oh, ring their bells with swords and spells
Don't let 'em get away!
We're brave and bold
For Fame and Gold
We'll make a lot today!
Ring their bells with swords and spells
Don't let 'em get away!
We'll hack and slash and blast and trash
And blow these dudes away!

Crashing through the door
Into the dragon's nose
Our mage whips out a Cone of Cold
And out his fire goes!
Elven bowstrings sing
Making Balrogs fall
And our thief finds a secret door
Into the treasure hall!

(chorus)

Then appears the Lich
With his demon guard
Our wizard yawns and wishes
We'd run into something HARD.
He begins to cast
His 19th level spell
The damn Lich throws a Gate at us
And drops us all in Hell!

(chorus)

We appear in Hell
In front of Satan's throne
Our cleric waves us out the door
And takes him on alone!
Satan's legions don't
Want to let us go
Our Techno pulls a bazooka out
And NUKES 'em 'til they GLOW!

Oh, ring their bells with Prayers and Spells
Don't let 'em get away!
We're brave and bold and CRAZED, we're told
To think we'll live the day!
Oh, ring their bells with Swords and SHELLS
Don't let 'em get away!
We'll hack and slash and blast and trash
And blow these dudes away!

Yes, we'll hack and slash and blast and trash
And drag our loot away!