Ah yes. It is once again time for us to do something that we have no idea the meaning of: cut down a symbol of pagan fear, the biproduct of over active Irish/Jute imaginations. Well, as a tribute, Naomi and I took this very seriously. We drank Glog to represent the crimson blood spilled of those whose bodies remain forever hidden beneath layers of heavy peat and the blood that we our selves have been spared of losing. Thus, the documentation of a fierce and irrational battle between tradition and senility. (The title is more a need to use words I never can in normal conversations).
You should all be glad there was no audio to this sequence of photos.
Oh, and my crimson hat...very necesary to show how serious i am about sacrifices...not my head!
See, this is the "what-for"...a fierce festooning! That'll teach'em.
What i saw as a result of too much Glog and festooning. 
OH NOOOO! GREAT GOD OF THOR! The tree is spitting giant florescent neon colored Druid gametes! Ruuun!...
Glad you could share in the pure nonsense of our holiday. Cheers!
3 comments:
Visit this blog. Thank you!
I guess my first response didn't post...anyway, don't you hate it when wierdos you don't know post comments on your blog? It's bad enough that wierdos you do know do it. Anyway, I am not really a wierdo. I'm your mom. I appreciate your humor, and had a good laugh at your photos and narrative. Naomi is such a gem to go along with your humor and add hers to it. I loved your post. Mom the pseudo wierdo.
What has that city done to you? Long hair? Pre-cut Christmas trees? The plains-people of Colorado are making you soft and hippy-esque. What next? The reefer? Crocks? Ball snuggling girly jeans? You sicken me...
Speaking of being sick. I worked out so hard at the gym on Friday, that I threw up. I am all that is man! ...my wrestling coaches would be proud.
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