Holy Crap, I'm Famous - or - Devilmas Is For The Children

Have a whorey, gory Devilmas.

I might have just started a new heterosexual long distance relationship with a schizophrenic zombie enthusiast. Take a look.



So, I am now beaming while prancing around my tiny apartment in this tiny leather studded thong. It's like a hair and leather tornado in a here. I think I just made myself gag. Happy Devilmas.

Links.
Krumbine on YouTube
The Origins of Devilmas
Krumbine's Website
Misspacman08's take on the responsibilities, moral actions, and the true purpose of the Devil. Noodle scratcher.

Retribution And Condemnation - or - Hello, My Name Is Heathen

This video is made entirely out of synthesized awesome from American made, Japan owned factories in NewBraska, which happens to be in U.S. occupied Iraq. The second video is purely vanity.

Hello world. Here's to the good stuff. I went to a preachers house for Christmas diner and felt closer to perfection than I ever have, mostly because I was seated next to the preacher's mother and had the honor of pouring her a glass, or two, of red wine.


This movie is twisted. Mr Bungle seems to have that effect on people.


Find the humor. It's there, I swear. I love you?

Failure Is Not An Option, It’s A Website – or – These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things

I lost my job, I worked all day Christmas Eve, I didn’t go home for the holidays, and it looks like my Christmas dinner is going to be a veggie burger, granola, and glass of bourbon. I needed a pick me up. Christmas morning my parents and I talked about politics and conspiracies, my brother and I talked about unemployment and lost friendships, and my high school girlfriend and I talked about how my personal misery and financial despair will make for some great blog topics. I can only respond to these three conversations by saying, “Is this what my life has intimately boiled down to?” The answer is no, of course not. There is a lot more to me than that. My life also includes laughing at other people’s failures. Laugh with me, people. It makes this downward spiral seem more like a carnival ride when people all around you are screaming along.

Brought to you by failblog.org.



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Thanks to Sam for pointing me towards on-line failure. Sam is a smokin' Blues singer from Boston, recently moved to Saratoga Springs. Check her out at samanthawhitehouse.com

From all of us at Obsquatch.blogspot.com,
Merry Christmas
Happy Holidays
Go Fuck Yourself

Potibul Quotables - or - Where Did All These Fires Come From?

Two days ago, I got laid off from the Greenhouse. Yesterday, I became deathly ill and am currently on the hunt for a vampire to bite me so I will never get this sick again. Today, I am wrapped up in plaid flannels and puffy fleece like an inflatable redneck burrito. It reminds me of nothing, so here are some interesting quotes from people you probably don’t know unless one of them is you, and if that is so, see what kind of profound effect you’ve have on my life?

"Bring a bunch of freezer zip-loc bags to the 'Employee Appreciation Lunch,' and just stock up for the next few months of unemployment."

“I wake up every day wondering what the hell I am doing in upstate friggin New York;
can this possibly be my life? I pretend to look for a job every day, because there aren't any. I'm looking for a new band and working on some original tunes, and I'm also waiting for my acceptance letter from UAlbany. But what am I DOING here? That's a long story… It involves an upset ex-girlfriend, a judge and a probation officer”

“As much as I try not to admit it, I’m really good at being stood up as I am currently out on a date with nobody. Drinking alone has lost it’s allure, that’s if it ever had any allure in the first place, which it totally does even though I won’t admit that either.”

“I’m sitting in my toilet room”

“No one has put so much time into saying so little over the course of so many opportunities, and done it with such grace and style as Phil Collins. He is truly my hero.”

“We need to rewrite the Ten Commandments. First off, Don’t Be Nervous. Secondly, Don’t Be Creepy. I’m going to hold off on the other eight, as I’m going through these kinda quickly.”

David: Dude when we invented armpitting, we changed the world.
me: Is that where all those fires came from?
David: Probably
me: Im gonna quote you on that, just so you know
David: Good! The world is ready!

“God damn the whole fucking world, and everyone in it but you, Carlotta.”
-The dying words of W.C. Fields, his wife’s name was Harriet.

When One Door Slams Shut, Two More Open In The Woods Where Nobody Can Hear Them - or - Stick To Text, But Try Adding A Period Once In A While

There are times you know when something is a fad and you follow along becase you get swept up in what you think is a good idea, and for a week or two you feel really good about being part of something bigger than yourself, where there is this whole community of idiots scrapping and clawing their way over one another to get your attention for a three second to five minute blast of self indulgence, but then, suddenly, finally, self consciousness kicks in and you noticed that this completely false community of strangers and carpetbaggers have collectively pulled down their emoticon pants and taken a crap in an on-line paper bag with your name on it, and after lighting this bag on i-fire, they leave said bag on your e-front porch and ring your IM-doorbell and snicker and laugh from the inter-bushes while you get www.crap all over your boots.com, and I believe that facebook is responsible for a huge percentage of internet-bassed, flamming crap bags right now, but know this, you should understand that I’ve felt this way about facebook for quite sometime and was so happy with myself for not ever taking part in it, but if the truth must be told, and if there is one thing that happens on this blaaaaaahg, then the truth is told, so if the truth must be told again, then I’ve seen this false community rear it’s pointless head in two completely different, yet almost indistinguishable similar forms; ie, myspace and friendster, so I was especially pissed at myself for stepping on the http://flaming.paper/bag.com that the entirety of youtube dropped on my front porch, that nest of godless douche pumps, so hold on tight, kids... It's time for yet another failure in the online life of Obsquatch, alas, but all that being said, I still chuckle at a few choice moments of the videos I’ve made where I tap into some kind of humor that I would consider universally funny to people with brains, and I feel proud when someone gives me 5 out of 5 stars, and I think that I know funny youtubers and am selective enought with my "favorites" and subscriptions that I am keeping my end of the bargain as a member of team awesome, and I still want that cute actress in California that I’ve never talked to and will probably never meet, to ask me to move into her levitating, earthquake-proof castle made of grilled cheese and (un)funyuns, and help spend her family’s fortune as insanely as possible, but maybe something better is in the stars and complete lack of stars for me (as it is impossible to see the stars from where I am) because regardless of the things I liked about making videos and the people who watched them, I think I am done making video for a while, and there is a good reason for this, which is the fact that the last video I made was of me going over my poor decisions at the grocery store and only after I realized that 1)nobody gives a rats booty about how many hot dogs I can buy at once, and 2) this information is neither interesting or funny, in the least, did I stop myself and say, “let it drown, Obsquatch. Let it drown,” due to the undeniable truth in knowing that there is something universally more classy (if not also classic (in the least classic way possible (because there is nothing classic about writing a blaaaaahhhhhhg (or classy for that matter (but I seem to have gotten off topic (which is something I should be professionally sponsored to do (which makes me wonder what kind of product would sponsor someone who goes off topic constantly))))))) about blogging rather than vlogging (both of which are terms that I despise).

Witness the death of my wit. Fair warning.

A Heartfelt Story Of Freedom, Family, and Wine - or - "Oh My God, You're My Totally Fuckin' Like Favorite..."

If you don’t know your past, how can you prepare for your future? With booze, that’s how.


I think this 5 part series of Drunk History is simply brilliant.

Baking Bread Never Needed Such A High Blood Alcohol Level - or - I'm Feeling Kneedy

Yes, this was a weeknight. Yes, that's a lot of drinks for not a lot of bread. Yes, I got a little cross eyed by the end. Yes, it was all very tasty, even the bread. Yes, you can have my liver when I'm done with it, but I don't think you'll really want it. Yes, I have more hats. Yes, that dress makes your butt look big. Yes, I know the Second Annual Sketchy Mustache Competition is over. Yes, I know I still haven't sent Shawn his prize for winning said Sketchy Mustache Competition. Yes, that makes me a douche pump. Yes, I know there is no such thing as a douche pump in the actual world of douching. Yes, I've been called a douche pump before. Yes, I am still friends with that person. Yes, he does like the new GnFnR album. Yes, I'm way off topic. Yes, I am a yes man.

Yes!

My Own Personal Financial Crisis – or – Your Call Is Being Rerouted To The Land Of Wrath.

I try to call my folks every once in a while. This is what they had to say to me this weekend when I called them.
“Your call has been redirected to sprint customer finance services, please do not hang up.”
“Hi Mom! It’s me, Obsquatch. You sound weird, are you alright?”
“To make a payment to apply to your over limit or past due balance, please hold.”
“How are things in the frozen Tundra of Vermont. I really miss it; the snow, the mountains, my old friends, and of course you and pops.”
“An immediate payment that satisfies your over limit or past due account may instantly reconnect service.”
“I’m having a good time here in Chicago as winter sets in. I like the cold, but I think I’m the only person who does. Oh yeah, thanks for that bread recipe; I make my own bread now. I’m trying to get back east for Christmas or New Years.”
“Para espanol, empuje el numero cinco…”
“I gotta run. Say hi to pops for me. Thanks Mom!”

So, I haven’t paid the bill in a little while. Whoops. In all actuality, it’s kind of nice not being able to call anyone. I can still get calls, I just can’t call anyone back. And I can’t check my voice mail, or get text messages, or send text messages, or play World Of Warcraft: Cellphone Edition, which I didn’t anyway. Having a phone that only works when you don’t use it is like wearing a muzzle… on vibrate.

In other news, the Seven Deadly Sins Project has started the downward spiral of despair and self-loathing that all my little projects seem to end up doing. The reason this is happening is because I have a serious problem with the “Christmas Spirit,” mostly because I think it is pure and utter bullshit. Most religious historians admit that Jesus wasn’t born on Christmas day, or anywhere near this time of year, or, for that matter, in a manger, or in front of three kings, or under a big glowing star. Most of the Dec 25th stuff is a Christian adaptation and combination of Roman (Attis), Greek (Dionysus), and Persian (Mithra) Pagan elements, all of which focus around the winter solstice. Attis was born from a virgin mother, that almond loving slut, and Dionysus was the divine son of Zeus, at least one of the eighty (he can also turn water into wine, among other parlor tricks), and Mithra’s birth was witnessed by shepherds and gift-bearing Magi. So it looks to me like lil’ baby Jesus was nothing but a faker, a liar, a copycat, at best a celestial plagiarist. And I’ll be damned if I’m gonna cut down a perfectly happy pine tree, cover it with popcorn, knick-knacks, patty-whacks, brick-a-brack and chocolate-covered pretzels, and think of it as some kind of birthday alter to a religious identity thief. Not in this dojo, mofo.

But Jesus’ obsession with stealing other children of God’s SS#’s is not why I don’t like Chirstmas, and it’s not the contrived, mass-capitalism that has gripped our nation, causing things like “Black Friday” and “The Christmas Effect.” It’s the fucking music. I am forced to listen to “The Holiday Light” radio station at the greenhouse. This causes massive amount of wrath to bubble up inside of me. It eventually spills out in sporadic fits of frothing madness. So, although not having paid my cell phone bill did cause me bouts of envy and greed, my wrath count has skyrocketed due to my dictated work soundtrack. Instead of giving you a list of the Seven Deadly Sins, I am going to provide you with a list of the most played Christmas songs over the course of an eight hour day.
Let It Snow – IV
The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year – VIII
O, Silent Night – XI (mostly Bocelli and Josh Groban)
On The First Noel – V
Jingle Bell Rock – III
All I Want For Christmas Is You – VII
Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas – VII
Little Drummer Boy – IV

Each time any of these songs makes it’s way to my ear drums, I feel like ripping the speakers out of the wall, setting them on fire, chanting some demonic incantation, ripping all my clothes off, and throwing myself into the fish pond. But remember that this is just a log of one day of the radio observation. We’ve been piping in “holiday music” for a week now, so if I add all these bits of rage together for the week, the numbers start looking like this.

Lust – 27
Wrath – 289
Gluttony – 11
Greed – 3
Pride – 29
Envy – 13
Sloth – 22

Thank god that Linus and Lucy is considered “Christmas Music.”

Losing My Mind, Just In Time For The Hollidays - or - Sketchy Snowmen Talk To Me In My Dreams

Music by:
Faith No More - Jizzlobber from Angel Dust ©1992
Mr. Bungle - Ars Moriendi from California ©1999

Sons Of Susan Get Lost In Inertia - or - My, What A Nice Van You Have

Today, Chicago got its first snowfall. It didn’t stick around very long, but it never does. It was peaceful and beautiful and quiet and the whole of Chicago seemed to slow down and say, “Hey, I know that the next five months are going to be hell on Earth, but that’s kinda pretty.” It reminded me that I still haven’t written about the wedding that marked the end of the warm weather and the beginning of the cold weather. So without further ado, here is a recap of a part of Ryan and Hadley’s wedding as I remembered it a few days after the fact. Unfortunately for Ryan and Hadley, this part of their wedding has absolutely nothing to do with their wedding, but more to do with how I got there.

October 25th, 2008
Holy crap. Where to begin. I guess I have to make a list because lists are the best way for me to remember what actually happened while also aiding in the construction, demolition, embalment and the eventual resurrection of a time line of events that I don’t exactly remember, but have proof of their happening.

8am – woke up after 4 hours of sleep to meet Caroline for coffee
8:30am – Meet Alan in big white van that smells of beer, butt and Neitchz.
8:31am – Alan, Caroline and I wait for Mike in a parking lot at which point I cue up Surfin’ Bird by the Trashmen on the van stereo.
8:32am – Madness takes over as the volume knob on the borrowed van is cranked up in a way that would make nipples want to fall off and become sustenance farmers.
8:33am – Surfin’ Bird is dubbed the official song of the next 48 hours. Parking lot dance party / conniption fit ensues, onlookers take interest but do not interfere. Overcast skies, slight drizzle, light winds from the west, 85% chance of awesome.

8:34 – Everybody’s heard about the bird.
8:35 – Mike loads gear into van while Surfin’ Bird is declared the best song in the galaxy.
8:38am – Alan, and his new huge orange tinted sunglasses that fit over your normal glasses which have peripheral lenses in the ear pieces so you can see your ear hair growing, and also which come with a convenient clip that attaches to your sun visor so you don’t have to look for where you stashed them on your last road trip or last week’s visit to the old country buffet, gained a new persona. Van Guy VanDriver. When we would pass another van, he would say things like, “Hey, nice van, I have a van, too,” and, “My van has the power window / power locks / powerless passenger upgrade. What do you think about that, other van guy?”
9:30am – Picked up Freddie. Also picked up a rented digital P.A. system that I still haven’t paid for. With the successful assembly of 5 of 6 of the Sons Of Susan in a van, which was packed to the gills with equipment, instruments, and an exorbitant amount of clothing for one overnight trip, we headed to Michigan to play a wedding for our musician / alcoholic friend, Ryan. He was marrying his sweetheart and partner in crime, Hadley. In a world of darkness, sadness, and deadly sin, they are truly made of awesome. They are beacons of love and bacons of hope in a loveless world of single, bass playing people named Obsquatch.
10:00am – Overcast, drizzling, 70% chance of pointless arguments and tasteless humor.
10:01am – Obsquatch notes that, “the world truly needs more truly mad scientists like Nicola Tesla.” Discussion of Tesla’s positive vs. negative effect on the world followed including a discussion on whether or not he was responsible for an explosion that destroyed five hundred thousand square acres of land in Siberia in 1908, or it was aliens. The point was not brought up that Tesla might have been an alien, which would make both Van Guy VanDriver and me right.
10:27am – Freddie’s Jokes Are Horrible. Thus begins the “Every Bit Of Humor That Escapes Freddie’s Mouth Is Hilarious And Terrible” chronicles, or E.B.O.H.T.E.F.M.I.H.A.T.. Part 1 – “Why does Michael Jackson like twenty-eight year olds? Because there are twenty of them.”
10:32am – Groaning continues.
10:43am – The van that Van Guy VanDriver is driving at breakneck speeds, is equipped with XFM which is just like the real radio but a lot more expensive so that you don’t have commercials to cue you when to change the station. We began to play the radio game, where you get one point for being the first person in the Van of Terror to name the tune and one point for naming the band.
10:44am – Got sick of playing the radio game.
11:03am – EBOHTEFMIHAT Part 2 – "Liberace was great on piano but he sucked on organ."
11:15am – Everyone is happily forced to wear Van Guy VanDrivers Sunglasses. A photo was taken but because we were going so fast, time and space bent around us and the image is slightly altered. The sheer levels of awesome that were prevalent in the Cosmic Van of Radness also effected the photo.

11:20am – Van Guy VanDriver mentions, “my phone is so smart, it knows when we cross a time zone and automatically switches back an hour.”
Obsquatch responds, “That may be smart, but in a Terminator way because it just wants you to age faster and die off so that it can spend your hard earned money on internet porn.”
Van Guy – “My phone is so smart that it knows that you don’t ever need to spend a dime to get internet porn.”
Obsquatch – “Every phone knows that, but your phone is such a dork, I saw it playing Magic The Gathering in the high school cafeteria.”
Van Guy – “Nooooooo! Why, smart phone? Don’t you know that’s social suicide?”
12:30pm – Partly cloudy, windy, 90% chance of crappy food and indigestion.
12:31pm – We are burger KINGS!

I had a Burger King Veggie Burger with Chicken Fries, a truly confusing mix of vegetarian and carnivore fair. I also think I went back for a second burger called “Death by Bacon.”
12:35pm – In my mind, I renamed my second burger “Regrets by Bacon,” and relinquished control of my window to Van Guy.
1:07pm – Caroline suddenly shouts out, “I’m getting sick and tired or all these mother fucking snakes in this mother fucking van!”
1:45pm – I invented game I call Existential Rochambeau. Caroline and I got really good at it. It is just like paper-scissors-rock, except you make up what ever you want to use besides paper, or scissors, or rock because those three things always loose. The winner must me unanimously agreed upon which was easy when it was “Mushroom Cloud vs. Carebears” and "Van Guy VanDriver vs. Bad Pirate Impersonation" but got tricky at “Darth Vader vs. T-rex” and “Robot Dancing vs. Origami” and even harder at “Pez vs. Queen.” To clarify, it turned out to be all the Pez and all the Pez dispensers in the world vs. Queen and the legacy they left on Earth. Initially, Queen was declared the winner of this epic battle, but after mulitple appeals and numerous long distance phone calls, Pez eventually won. It was a long and arduous battle involving multiple member of my family and the, up to this point, totally forgotten 6th member of the band.
2:26pm – Van Guy VanDriver goes 87mph in a borrowed van that was given to us under the condition that we keep in around 65. The seat belts in the back do not work and I became a Christian, Muslim, Jew, Buddhist, and Shaker all at once just to make sure I got one of them right in case the van suddenly transformed into a sub-sonic flaming ball of death.
2:34pm – Van Guy VanDriver pulls into our hotel and we meet up with the 6th Son of Susan, who was dearly missed during this road trip. The wedding is hours away and showers are needed, but before debriefing, this photo is snapped and the madness is frozen in time, forever.

Biff! Ka-Pow! Zap! - or - Bat Ladder Away

The 80’s Just Got Even More Rad – or – This Guy’s Gonna Get An Ass Full Of Pipe Wrench

I know when I've found genius at work, and the person who remade these confusing 80's videos by replacing the lyrics of the tune with what is actually happening in the video is right up there on the genius chart. Just above "angry boxer turned super happy toaster spokesman" and right below the inventor of Chia Pet.




I crack up just thinking that someone had to storyboard the original videos at one point. I know that musicians are up for just about anything, especially when they were all super coked up in the 80’s, but just imagine some video director saying to you, “Ok, you’re gonna fly around a library following a librarian that will tweak your nose in front of a string quartet while the guitar player makes out with this chimp which should distract the viewers from that black guy kicking the crap outta the Jew in the Periodicals section.”

In other news, I’ve continued to keep track of my deadly sins but have started calling myself on them as they happen. This seems to creep out whomever I am talking to. I am starting to yell out the sin I commit, I pull out my little black book, flip through my easy-to-read sin tabs, and check off a deadly sin with out skipping a beat in the conversation. Here’s an example of the conversation to follow.

"Pride!"
“What? What the hell was that, Obsquatch?”
“Well, if you really want to know… we were talking about how nobody really likes New Jersey except for people who live there, and I started thinking about these signs I used to see in Vermont that say ‘Don’t Jersey Vermont,’ and then I remembered the only time I went to New Jersey on purpose and how depressed I got looking at the endless suburban sprawl that New Jersey-ians call wilderness, and then I felt proud to grow up in such a beautiful place like Vermont. And that pride was deadly.”
“Oh.”
“That, and I was picturing that blond in the coffee shop drinking her grande-caramel-half-caf-macchiato-double-shot-of-espresso-re-caf-with-soy butt naked.”
“Lust, right?”
“No. Sure she’s cute, but I really wanted to see her spill it all over herself and run out screaming naked bloody murder.”
“Right… wrath.”
“You got it. But you were kinda right, I was also picturing the crazy old lady out front of McDonalds riding a mechanical bull, wearing nothing but a tiara, and trying to eat a polish sausage doused in mustard. That’s lust.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you are one sick puppy?”
“Yes, and I’m proud of it, my friend.”
“I’m not envious of you.”
“Then you are half the deadly sinner that I am.”
Let’s do the numbers.
Lust – 19
Wrath – 44 (I had to take down all the decorations I had been putting up for three days, and replace them with new ones that don’t look as good. That was the closes I’ve ever come to the veins in my forehead exploding. Why is it Christmas time right now? Grrrrrrr… 45)
Gluttony – 7 (I’m so hungry)
Greed – 1 (I wanted S.O.S. to make more money for playing our friends wedding because we kicked so much ass! Crap! Pride! Crap!)
Pride – 22
Envy – 5
Sloth – 13 (It took me five days to move twenty feet. I’m easily distracted by Lust, Wrath, Gluttony and Pride)

Bite Me, Cactus - or - How To Look Suicidal While Maintaining That Natural, Healthy Skin Glow

Pumpkin Time – or – Arts And Crafts 90’s Rock

Doing anything besides driving while listening to NPR makes getting things accomplished a lot more difficult. Although NPR is a vital news source and the stories are interesting, once I park my car I am usually depressed and I want to hide my head in the sand and wait for better, brighter days (Obama). This is most likely because NPR reports what is actually happening in the world, not the candy coated, un-news crap that most news sources latch onto. Regardless. I was at a Pumpkin-ing Gathering last night, maybe it was a party. There was Jameson Irish Whiskey, which is starting to seem ever present in my life, and there was cauldron of apple cider that went well with the Jameson, and there were pumpkins that demanded creativity, and there were friends who have been friends beyond belief so believe me they are friends, and if that constitutes a party, then I was at a Pumpkin-ing Party. We were, for some reason, listening to NPR, first All Things Considered, then local news, then the BBC news, then some story about poverty in Brooklyn. NPR seemed to sap both the creativity in the conversation between the pumpkin-ers and also the levels of joy in the room the pumpkin-ers were trying to “drink, carve, and be merry” in. The creative thoughts that were to be transposed from the pumpkin-ers brains onto the pumpkins were not dampened by NPR, possibly the opposite and many a good idea was born during this emotionally turbulent time, but once the radio was changed to a 90’s pop rock station with a catchy call number jingle, pumpkin carving productivity took a huge upswing, as did whiskey consumption and all around revelry. Although motivating, the musical selection was also conducive to increased levels of, “this song sucks,” and, “wow, this song really sucks.” The common response to these statements was, “yes, it does.” Long live crap music.

This is my Mobius strip Jack-O-Lantern. I thought it up myself


Behold, Alan and the helm of Pump-ed-ness and son (kin?)


What, you want pictures? Damn you.







Nights made of awesome are... awesome? Thanks.

Seven Deadly Sins Project #3 – What The Hell Is With All These Damn Christmas Lights.

Maybe you know of the quantum mechanical theory that one object can exist in two different places at one time, and there for coexists in two different times at once. I’m am proof. I work in a greenhouse, but simultaneously I work in the darkest corner in the deepest pit of Hell. Today is Tuesday, October 28, 2008 but in the Gethsemane Gift Shop, it is December 24, the night before Christmas. How did this happen? How is it that Halloween isn’t for another three days, but today I was taking down spiderwebs and packing up skeletons while stringing up electric snowflakes, unpacking fake snow-covered evergreens, and hanging glitter-covered hotdogs and multicolored-feathered birds on a tree that was dripping with so many rhinestones and sequins that it could win a pride parade pageant. Needless to say, the fact that an object, like myself, can exist in a greenhouse before Halloween, and simultaneously exist in an Elf’s workshop months later, racks up a bunch of Wrath points in my little black book.

I hung those, in a not-so-silent protest. I developed a slight rash on my neck while completing this task.


Yes, that tree is upside down.


I may start messing with Santa on a regular basis.


One of the fourteen fake trees in the store. That's right. Fourteen.

Sin Tallies as of 7:34pm, 10/28/08.
Lust – 8
Wrath – 28
Glutton – 7
Greed – 1
Pride – 10
Envy – 3
Sloth – 3

Gluttony – For Sunday Family Dinner, a good Jewish friend of mine made Bacon Wrapped Meatloaf. I had three slices. Check that, they were slabs of Bacon Wrapped Meatloaf, not slices.

Sloth – I passed out shortly after Sunday Family Dinner on a pile of pillows, in front of a fireplace, with BBQ stains on my shirt and a chin shinny with meat grease.

Wrath (22) – One vote of wrath for every Christmas ornament I was forced to hang.

Sloth – I hid in a warehouse today to avoid putting up any more Christmas decorations. It was cold, dark, musky, and full of boxes. Totally worth it.