This revelation threw me. I’m usually pretty tight with words and shit. I got straight B’s in high school English; obviously above average, but not too big for my britches.

Had I gotten all A’s I would be filled with too much confidence to even explore my grammatical shortcomings. (Of which, believe me, there are many.)

When I think of words that are fucking kick ass, I tend to think of things, as opposed to ideas. Democracy is a pretty good idea, but as a word? Lame.

Some words have a particular ring to them that’s just appealing, even if the object, idea or place they describe or represent is wholly disgusting. Examples: falcon, snot, microwave.

I could go on but I’d rather share these drawings I made.

I love you all.

Hello. I am Terry Joseph Wharburton. I produce The Bob & Andrew Show podcast here at bobandandrew.com.

Bob and Andrew have been nice enough to let me blog on the Internet this week. I hope you like what I have to say about Christmas time, my favorite time of the year.

First of all I’m going to say right now that this “Happy Holidays” bullshit has got to stop. It’s Christmas time, not holidays and fuck. If one more person says “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas” I’m going to punch them in the face and then take their wallet. Here is my guide to Christmas.

If even one of my ex-wives loved me enough to let me see my children, I would give them the best Christmas ever.

I grew up real poor, so I know what it’s like to have no cabbage or ricecakes at Christmas dinner. If I was lucky enough to get a gift it was usually something I already owned and Pops would just wrap it in newspaper. I got a shoe polish kit one year and made a bundle down at the gas station, until mother died an I had to pawn the stool for bus money.

Anyway I am fucking rambling. Here’s how you Christmas.

Get Tree

The best way to fuck up Christmas is to get a bad tree. If you have any scrote you’ll go into the woods and chop down a pine or a douglas fur or some other such conifer. However lots exist that will sell chumps pre-cut and wrapped trees for about sixty bucks. You can usually break in at night and take a few; security is lax.

All you gotta do is heff it into your truck and truck the bitch home.

Decorate the tree with tinsel and ornaments that remind you of better days.

Buy Shit

You gotta get gifts. I suggest going to the Dollar Store.

Twenty bucks usually does it, and you can often gets something nice for yourself.

Cause it’s the holidays and you gotta treat yourself.

Drink

Get fucking slammed on Christmas eve. Just go for it. Either alone or in a bar. I pref bar cause you have a better chance of getting laid at a bar. Though I suppose you could just stay home and jerk off and save cab fare, but Christmas is a time of giving and you sometimes just gotta give it to a whore.

My favorite drink is Canadian Club whiskey with Coke. Sometimes I go into a bar with my own flask and just order Cokes. They usually give them to you for free if you say you’re a designated driver. And, if you make friends easily, you can offer to drive a fellow drinker home. Drop him off and you’ve got a brand new car to use until the police come.

Do Family

I miss my ex-wife and my kids. I want nothing more than to be loved again. Ah, fuck my life.

Things get a little blue when the topic of the Star Wars is brought up.  Bob thinks Chewbacca might be gay.  What does Andrew think? There’s only one way to find out…

Click play to listen or download for your iPod.

They probably took turns feeding him and cleaning his cage, playing with him and talking to him. Buddy, being a bird, was oblivious to this of course and most likely spent his days wondering how long he’d have to spend as their captive. While the little Menzies were loving Buddy, he was scratching off the days on the wall of his cage and doing birdy chin ups. Regardless of the details, I think this situation with Buddy is the perfect metaphor for childhood. When you’re a kid you think the world is pure, orderly and important. The world however, is indifferent, chaotic and down right nasty. It’s only when events like Buddy’s death happen that you begin to learn about the true cruelty that lies beyond the playground.

I would like to recount for you now some of my most alarming and enlightening childhood traumas. Come along.

In elementary school there was a kid in my class named Steven Richardson. He was cool. He even had a little leather jacket at the age of 8. He and his friend Justin would go around at recess and lunch and make shit happen. Often times there were wrestling matches and play fights involved in these lunch hours. Steven always won. I didn’t take part in too many of these, but could be relied upon as an okay ally. One day, a group of us were involved in one such play fight and I soon found myself battling a couple of kids very near to Steven. He helped me out and we teamed up. It was glorious. We fought valiantly and soon won the battle. He turned to me and told me that we had made a good team. I was proud. Then he promptly tripped me and laughed at me. As soon as he was gone, I cried. I’ve never truly opened up to another person since.

LESSON #1: Friends will back stab you.

In grade 3 I had a teacher named Mrs Lang. She was a tall woman with a bad haircut and no chin. She was abrasive and very devout. She used to show us movies about the life of Jesus that I don’t think were in the curriculum, but that’s neither here nor there. Each week in Mrs Lang’s class we had to research a topic in groups, make a poster board and then present on our findings at the end of the week. This particular Friday we were preparing for our presentations. Our presentation was on Dolphins as I recall. My group was huddled around our poster board and we were taking turns practicing our piece out loud. As it was not my turn I was not doing much of anything. Mrs Lang took exception to this and pulled me out into the hall. She proceeded to push her chinless face into mine and release some fire and brimstone on me. Her argument was that I should have been practicing my part of the presentation in my head while it was the other student’s turn. Overreaction? I think so. I returned to class where I sat at my desk and cried for 10 or 20 minutes.

LESSON #2: People will not hesitate to drop their own shit at your doorstep unprovoked.

The following year, in grade 4, I was in Mrs DeLougas’ class. It was a split class and took place in a portable classroom. That year, needless to say, sucked in general. But there were a couple of particularly traumatic experiences along the way. The year was 1993. Star Trek the Next Generation was huge and I was a fan of the show. I had recently purchased (I say I purchased it, really it was my mother) a Captain Picard action figure. Proud of my new purchase I brought it to school to show my friends. That day during lunch I took Captain Picard around to show him the school. While I was gone, someone went into my desk and stole all of Captain Picard’s accessories. I was devastated. I still had my Captain but he had no phaser, no tricorder! He would have been useless on an away mission! I cried. It was horrible.

LESSON #3: People WILL steal your stuff.

Another traumatizing experience I had while in grade 4 took place one day after school. My family was living just outside the city of Quesnel at the time and so I had to take a bus home from school. On this particular day however, my Mum was going to give me a ride. I packed up my stuff, headed out to the round about where all the buses and cars were picking kids up and taking them home. I waited till everyone was gone, all the buses, all the parents and all the kids. I knew something was up. I walked back to class where Mrs DeLougas, immediately upon seeing me, began apologizing profusely. You see, my Mum had called and told Mrs DeLougas to please pass on that she would not be able to pick me up and that I should take the bus the home as per usual. Mrs DeLougas had even written it on her hand so she wouldn’t forget. I cried and Mrs DeLougas organized a ride for me from one of the other teachers who lived near me.

LESSON #4: You’re on your own in this world.

When I was a kid I was, shall we say, a little awkward at times. There was a period of a few years where I refused to wear anything other than sweat pants. They were comfortable. In grade 6 our class got to go on a week long field trip to the Flying U Ranch in the BC Cariboo region. There we got to stay in cabins, ride horses and just generally have a good time. It took place during the early summer and the weather was warm. After one particularly hot day of riding horses, working out in the sun and just general busy-ness, I got a nose bleed. My sweat pants may or may not have been partially responsible due to the heat capturing properties they possessed. I guess my body just couldn’t take it any more. It was a monumental nose bleed. Blood everywhere. It just wouldn’t stop. Some of the kids were cruel in their teasing of me and my sweat pants. I cried.

LESSON #5: People will constantly judge you on your appearance.

So there you have it. 5 traumatic experiences from my childhood and the 5 life lessons that go with them. In hindsight seem strangely trivial. At the time they were a big deal. They felt like life and death. But I got through it and am a better person for it. Now that I’m older, I don’t wear sweat pants anymore. I’m able to drive myself where I need to go.I keep a close eye on my stuff. I don’t take people too seriously when they unload on me for no reason and I’ve weeded out any friends that were not true friends. I still cry from time to time, but then again, who doesn’t?