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Monthly Archives: December 2011
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Click on the menorah for your 6th Channukah present!
How come you never call?
This post first appeared on Regretsy on December 23, 2010
From Liz:
Here’s a quick rough version of a new holiday cookie – the Human Gingerbread Centipede. Seasons greetings!
From Kathryn:
This year, I decided to try my hand at making gingerbread men. The mixing and baking went smoothly, but when it came to the decorating I ran into some trouble because I started drinking right after I snipped the end off of my icing tube.
From Megan:
Regretsy has inspired me to solve a problem I’ve had. My tree was all naked and sad on top, and now it’s … well it’s something. Thanks for the help!
From Libby:
I am an American working for a company in Japan, the land where Christmas is vaguely celebrated, but where whimsicle fuckery is practically a national pastime. I spotted these at my local discount store, Don Quijote, and I have to say, they did put me in the Regretsy Christmas spirit… of wanting to gouge my eyes out and hide in a corner softly sobbing to myself.
FOLLOW UP: Libby was kind enough to send me four of these, after I begged her repeatedly and threatened to cry. Here are my friends, Sam and Woody, who came over last night and got drunk, and thought I wouldn’t post this.
And speaking of masks…
From Andrea:
From Lacey:
From Gina:
From Dick:
Hey you worthless discusting looser asshole i’d liek to send you a bag of flaming dog shit for Christmas please give me your mailing address. Happy holidays.
And finally…
From Dani:
I’d like to take a moment to appreciate the glittering parade of fuckery over the past year. Thanks to you and cheap vodka, I haven’t killed myself despite the number of sagging schlongs, putty, pocked ass cheeks, and the regrets of life choices I face on a daily basis. I was so close to becoming a prostitute, why the fuck did I go back to art school?
Love,
Some Cunt Who’s Not Even Registered
This post first appeared on Regretsy on December 23, 2009
And then, in a twinkling, I heard from on high
The flapping and slapping of of fish from the sky.
As I drew in my head, and was turning about,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a trout.
He was dressed all in scales, from his head to his foot,
And his turtle was covered with ashes and soot.
A bundle of scrod he had flung on his back,
And he looked like Seu George, only not quite as black.
His eyes were drawn on with a ball point in blue,
And his beard was a cotton ball covered in glue.
He stood on a glittering Christmas tree shell
And the whole fucking thing was confusing as hell.
But then I woke up in a shivering sweat
With my hair and my clothes and my sheets soaking wet
And I thought to myself as I cradled my head,
I should never eat clams before going to bed.
