Godzilla Motherfucking Nutcrackers!

I spent all day getting my ass handed to me at NCAA football on Buster's X-Box and sort of watching Frankenstein Conquers the World. We didn't pay a lot of attention to the flick. Frankenstein wore a diaper and didn't conquer shit. He fought a big climactic battle with a giant armadillo and fell in a hole. That's really all you need to know about that hunk of crap. Frankenstein in a diaper, giant armadillo, they both fall into a hole. The end.

Maybe we should have been paying attention. You never know. Anyhow so here we go on a tangent.

This Christmas season I've gotten into nutcrackers. I dig them. I have myself a little set, they're standing in a semicircle around my tiny Christmas tree. They jazz me. I look at my nutcrackers and I feel festive. Festive, I tell you! I'm thinking to myself, yanno, Mike, these nutcrackers, you could do worse than get more of them. Because they're festive, see. You can't have enough festive. Festive is good. 

In fact, if they had a Godzilla nutcracker, that would just be flipping grand. If I'm on your Christmas list and you happen to find one of those suckers, you pick it up and you give it to me and, I dunno, I'd be pretty jazzed. Merry Christmas indeed.

If you happen to be in the business of making stuff like that, get the fuck on it! Godzilla nutcrackers would sell like flipping hotcakes.

Frankenstein nutcrackers would be pretty cool too, I guess. Not as cool as Godzilla nutcrackers. Or even Mothra. But still pretty cool.

Perhaps, if you're so inclined, you could make sustainable nutcrackers that were hand-made from the Pika Munpo villagers from Burkina Faso. So as not to be all corporate-whorish, and what not. 

Blogger doesn't want to load my friggin' picture today. So just imagine a Godzilla nutcracker in your mind and see how jazzing that would be. Meditate on it. Be one with the Godzilla nutcracker. Feel the quivering in your loins...

Speaking of quivering loins, I like this Bing Bang Theory show. Perhaps because it has Kelly Cuoco and she makes me happy in my happy place. Maybe because I actually kind of perhaps relate to the characters. Mostly it's because of Kelly Cuoco and the impure thoughts I have. 

I'm a sick, sad, weird little man. Well, maybe not so little. I'm 6'4" so I can't be technically little. I'm little on the inside, I guess. It's metaphorical. Fuck, I don't know. 

There's another tangent. I think this would be a good place to stop.

Be excellent.

*okay so now we have an image. It's not a Godzilla nutcracker because apparently they don't fucking exist. So I'll just sit here and say fuck a lot.