Merry Christmas suckers!! I'm going to Mexico.

Well it's almost Christmas and I'm about to high-tail it to Mexico. What does this mean for you? It means that while you're all sitting around your plastic tree on Christmas morning, basking in the blinking illumination of your cheap dollar store chirstmas lights, sullenly wondering why your presents didn't come this year, IIIIIIIIII will be lying on the beach drinking hot milk with kaluha, munching on Dave's magic cookies, chuckling to myself while my new mama cita, a Colombian girl named Carolina, lathers me with sunscreen.

"What naughty deed did we do to deserve NOTHING, Santa?"

I'm glad you asked! And I'm glad to tell you that the worst naughtiness a person can commit is doing nothing. You all sat in front of your computers and laughed while I wallowed in my misery. For years you reaped the benefits of my jolliness and yet shunned me in my time of need. Well now I know where your allegiances lie. You will never hear of me again. I have shaved off my beard, coloured my hair, I apply several bottles of self-tanner each morning, and I have worked off the potbelly through a strict work-out regiment and low-carb diet. I no longer have any affiliation with the Santa Claus corporation. It is now held in trust by that heartless devil woman Helen Claus who I'm sure will run it into the ground before easter rolls around.

So this is the end. To all of you who watched every LONELY SANTA episode and sent it to your friends, you will each receive a postcard from Mexico.

santa...OUT...forrealzzzz.

(DISCLAIMER: postcard may take 6 to 8 years to arrive.)

"JOB" Interview

Hey folks,

As you may have seen on webisode 2 of my hot new reality series which you must go watch 10 TIMES, I rocked my job interview the other day. I don't know where that expression came from, "the other day". There are lots of days. Infinity days. It doesn't make much sense to just refer to "the other day". But I've lost all track of days since I got here. So let's get back on topic. What was I talking about? Oh right, that hot interview lady at the mall. I think her name was Doreen. Couldn't you just smell the sexual tension? How could you? Movies in this part of the world don't capture smell so well. But I'm sure even non-magic folks like you could feel the heat between us. I'm a little nervous actually about what this could mean for our working relationship. I mean, I'm absolutely fine with mingling sexually with my co-workers. Mrs. Claus and I made it work for several centuries. We always liked to sneak off into the mail room and get all sexed up on those ridiculous letters children would send us. But in the mall Santa world, there's a myth to uphold. The children must never know that Mrs. Claus and I have separated. Their image of me must never be tainted. But that Dorris could ruin everything. Have you seen the way she looks at me? The way she cocks her eyebrow suggestively? The way she rubs her hands all over her face to keep from fainting? It' s too obvious. Even a child would be able to smell what was happening. I'll have to tell her on Monday when I start at the mall that if we're going to do this, it must be kept secret. And if she wants to get down in Santa's castle, it's gotta be quick and dirty... just how I like it.

santa...OUT

Santa's first "Webisode" (I don't know what it means but it sounds fun!)

I would like to take back all those terrible horrible nasty things I tweeted about those cute little kids with the camera. I thought they were just trying to exploit me because I'm a big name. But the first webisode of LONELY SANTA: the santa diaries, is a truly honest and compassionate portrayal of yours truly. I shared in Santa's loneliness and betrayal by that hateful bitch, and most of all I was quite moved by Dave and Santa's touching relationship.

Then Dave made a special batch of cookies and we ate them all and we watched it again and suddenly it was hysterically funny too! Such a tremendous emotional roller coaster I've been on tonight. I'm zonked. I strongly suggest you ask Dave for his cookie recipe and then watch the video because they must be magical or something. (Magic runs in our family, as you know.)

It smells like Dave is now making a magical batch of butter chicken. I'm going to investigate.

YOU GO WATCH LONELY SANTA 10 TIMES!!

s.clawzzzz--OUT

SANTA-CON

Yesterday I was feeling blue... as per usual these days. And my cousin, Dave... what a great guy he is... he told me that there was going to be a very special Christmas parade out in New Westminster. A Santa Claus parade. And I thought, wow, a parade in my honor. Not even JeZus has a parade, that greasy yippee. (I looked up yippee on urban dictionary and it's a person who abandons their hippy roots for a yuppee lifestyle.)

So I drove my Jeep Compass out to the parade and there were many boys and girls and mummys and daddys all bundled up in coats and scarves sipping hot chocolate from thermoses. And of course I wore my traditional red jacket and hat, which the children were particularly delighted to see. But then... just as the parade was about to start... a hoard of a thousand Santas all came pouring out of the Skytrain station and clogged the streets!

There was every kind of Santa you could imagine! Football Santa, Bondage Santa, Irish Santa, Chicken Santa, Boombox Santa... even POPE Santa! They just kept pouring into the streets and proceeded to march at the head of the parade and right into a bar appropriately named 57 Below. And so I marched along with them, not daring to disclose the fact tha the real Santa was in their midsts. I felt like a king marching in secret amongst his subjects while they drank whiskey from little flasks and shouted Christmas obscenities from megaphones and praised my, dare I say, holy name.

It really was a heartwarming sight. And I even got a few good games of darts in at the bar before we all got kicked out and returned to Vancouver in search of a nudie bar. But Santa must be going now. He has to ride the bus out to New West to pick up his Jeep, which he had to park overnight since Santa got a bit tipsy at the bar.

santa... still kind of drunk... OUT.

COOKIES!!

If you can't find this blasphemous "Lonely" Santa trailer on my blog page (it should be right at the top), my cousin Dave says to be sure you modify your privacy settings to allow cookies.

mmmmmmmm.....coooooooookies.

The solution to so many of life's little problems.

santa...OUT

Do NOT watch "LONELY SANTA" Movie Trailer... It's Lies!! all LIES!!

I just want to make it very clear that I do not endorse the upcoming documentary about my life, made by that curly haired boy with the dirty hat and the little lizard girl with the bulging eyes. Those two leeches followed me around for a week and told me that they were scanning me for cancerous diseases. They took full advantage of me, knowing full well I am unfamiliar with your silly non-magical technologies. How was I to know that was a camera they were toting around??

First of all, the trailer, which was posted to the YooToob this morning. Where do I even begin??? The title. LONELY Santa??? Who says I'm lonely?? I've got like a hundred and fifty friends on Facebook. And like 500 followers on the Tweeter. Does that sound like a lonely guy?? I don't think so. And that car-toon at the start is totally unrepresentative of my life. I don't wear this red get-up when I'm delivering presents. Do you think I'd be able to sneak around, all lit up like a traffic light? Hells naw. This red suit is for ceremonial functions only. Photo ops and whatnot. I'm like a Mountie. When I'm delivering gifts, I wear black lycra and kevlar with night-vision goggles. I also carry a semi-automatic dart gun and a taser so as to disable any angry dogs who may get in my way. I'm not about propagating stereotypes and I'm putting an end to that one right now.

What next?? Oh yes... the weeping. Of course that has been taken completely out of context and used to make me look like a sad and lonely fool. When really, I was crying tears of elation because Dave and I happened to be watching the 1994 re-make of Miracle on 34th Street (which is far superior to the original, in my personal opinion), and Santa was just cleared of all those nasty insanity charges.

I would like to point out to those little urchins who made this film without my knowledge that I do not remember signing any kind of release form and I will be involving my elfish lawyers just as soon as the divorce proceedings with Mrs. Claus have all been sorted out. I'm sueing your asses for SLANDER.

So I implore all of you... BOYCOTT LONELY SANTA!!! It's all POPPYCOCK and FLIM FLAM!! Those children usurped my Christmas spirit and good will and used me to make an exploitative piece of Christmas garbage that will damange my squeaky clean reputation and taint Christmas forever for all the girls and boys who believe in me. SO DON'T WATCH IT!!!

santa...PISSED.

monday... so very lonely

Of all the days in the week... I can't be bothered to count how many there are... but surely Monday is the loneliest of all. Back at the North Pole, Mondays were our day off. We would work hard all week preparing toys for all the good girls and boys, and then on Mondays we would rest. It was good for morale that while the rest of the world was just starting work, we were taking it easy. All the elves and reindeer would go galavanting about the frigid landscape and play all sorts of fun games and get in countless adventures.

Why, one Monday, me and Helen (that's Mrs. Claus' real name), took Blitzen to the great castle of the Ice King for a day trip. The castle of the Ice King is a wonderful, magical place very similar to your Las Vegas, full of hot cider and pumpkin pies and scantily clad elvish waitresses serving white Russians and hearty men smoking fine cigars and gambling. OH the gambling!! Helen and I spent the whole day betting on the Yeti-fights. This is a game that elves have a particular affinity for, in which great beasts of the north - very similar to your Sasquatches, only much larger and white as snow - are pitted against one another in epic battles to the death. The winning Yeti devours the loser and lives to fight another day. Helen was never much of a fan of the sport... something about animal rights, which I never understood because the Yeti's annihilate and devour each other in nature, it's just the order of things - but anyway she always tolerated it so long as we were winning - hypocritical bitch. Well Helen and I had marvelous luck that day, winning all of our bets and making a great deal of money off of poor Jack Frost, who has a terrible gambling addiction and couldn't pick a winning Yeti if it bit his face off.

So to celebrate our victories, we decided to stay the night in one of the Ice King's luxury suites. We ordered room service and then spent the night making love like we were on our honeymoon. We even did some roleplaying in which I pretended to be a plumber and Mrs. Claus was my unsuspecting patron. I then proceeded to clean her pipes thoroughly - and by "clean her pipes" I mean I gave it to her gangsta style while she massaged my sphincter with her pinky. Oh, say what you will about Helen but she was a freeee-eeeeak.

It only makes the pain worse recalling these fond memories. And now that I have no job, Mondays have all but lost their meaning. Everyday is a day off and while everyone else is going to work to fulfill their social duties, I just lay around and eat cookies and watch paternity tests on Maury while I massage my own sphincter with my pinky and nibble on my own nipples (which Helen never used to do but it does feel sublime). And sometimes, if I close my eyes real tight and use all my powers of imagination, I can sometimes hear her whispering in my ear, "That's right, Santa. You like it when I tickle your ass, don't you?" And then I open my eyes expecting to see her there... but it's only Dave trying make me feel better. And I do appreciate his efforts but sometimes it's more than I can bare. So my Mondays are now usually spent sobbing in a mess of chocolate and cookie crumbs, my pinky gently caressing the soft skin around my anus.

until next monday,
Santa