chrismas

Guess what time of the year it is, bitches? Yeah, Merry Christmas, Chris. Your daddy's a drunk and he ain't coming home no more. Fucking holidays piss me off, corporate-ass bullshit.

We tell you what to buy. We tell you what to think. You're a robot slave. Well, thank you very much, Mr. and Mrs. Walmart. Oh, and by the way, fuck you, too.

It's just like Mr. Dennen thinking he ain't gonna graduate me because of one fucking rock I threw at some bitch on the JV girls soccer team. Well guess what, Mr. Dennen? My band's about to record an EP that's gonna change the face of modern music forever, bitch!

My Christmas wish list? One. Ally to get back on birth control. Yeah, bitch.

Two. Cheaper Kush. And three. A fat-ass case for this. Yeah, watch out, bitches!

Hello? What do you want, Dad? My fucking father. Uh-huh. No, nobody told me. You're on a business trip? No, I had no idea. You're gonna be here for Christmas Eve? Really? And you got me something? Oh, Dad, it's a Christmas miracle.