Okay, kids. Who's going to write the Christmas post? Should it be me? I DID get this fetching haircut. I'm feeling pretty sassy, I must say.
NOT ME, MAMA. Stewie wrote the POEM, remember? The poem about Kissmus?
And I wrote my rules and regulations. We're done, missy.
Well, cats, I'm too tired. Who the hell is gonna write today? Ooooooooh. I have an idea.
Hey Shelby? Sheeeeeeeeeeelby!
Shelby doesn't know what a blog is. Shelby confuzzled.
Try to focus, dummy. Just tell the nice people what happened on Christmas. Here, use this evidence. I mean, these pictures I so lovingly took for future blackmailing purposes.
Okay!!! Hi, everybuddy! Welcome to SHELBY'S HOUSE. I tell you what is in Shelby's house on Christmas, whatever that is. SHELBY ISN'T TOO BRIGHT!
That's Shelby's boy hiding behind her. But there is something MORE IMPORTANT, and that is SHELBY'S BELLY!!! And do you know what goes in Shelby's BELLY?
Okay, that's the important stuff about Christmas! Yommy MEATS! And rainbow pewpie bone, and most of ALL!
Editor's note: I swear, I SWEAR, in the name of pants, the holiday posts are OVER. Done. Dead as a doornail. Gone to meet the choir invisible. Real, actual content soon. Promise.