Santa likes titties too Well, we’re at the end of another year… time for my annual recap of what happened in my so-called life during the past year of 2006.

I used to type this annual letter on paper and mail a copy to my family members with their Christmas card. But, more and more of my family has (sadly) passed away and I was sending less and less cards and letters. And, let’s face it… we are in the 21st century. Who am I, Ben Franklin? (Remember, he was the first Postmaster General, and a publisher… and I knew that without looking it up on Wikipedia. I grew up in Philadelphia, where Franklin was shoved up our ass sideways… bifocals and all.) My career is based on the Internet. It only made sense to go digital and put my Christmas letter on the Internet for anyone to read.

The picture for this update has nothing to do with my year in review. It’s Christmas time. I thought I’d give the guys that read my nonsense a nice little present. If South Park has taught us anything, it’s that the true meaning of Christmas is presents.

I don’t want to see any bitching about sexist images in the comments. How can anyone complain about titties? Titties are not only “sex objects,” they are, quite literally, a food source for newborn babies. In fact, I’ll bet two Jacksons (daddy needs a new bag of weed) that Baby Jesus was suckin’ on a tittie or two after he was born!

Well, there ya go. I’ve successfully tied Jesus to tittes, and firmly secured my rightful place in Hell. Pass the eggnog.

Two thousand six started out like any other year, and there wasn’t anything going on in my life. Same shit, different day. Seahawk fans, though, were glued to their televisions. The Seahawks were playing great football — winning the division, the conference, first-round bye, and home field advantage — on their way to Super Bowl XL. Of course, as we all know, the ‘Hawks lost in Detroit because the NFL referees fucked us. Some of us believe the lunar landings were faked, I believe the NFL wanted Pittsburgh to win at any cost… Jesus, next I’ll be seeing black helicopters and government men in black suits with sunglasses.

By spring, the entire country, including me, was complaining about $3 gas. I was driving my 1968 Mustang, cursing the gas pumps. It typically took about $45 to fill the tank. Even with a recent pay raise at work, $3 gas was making it tough to drive a classic car. I got a 1994 Chevy Lumina from a friend, but that turned into a complete cluster.

So in June, I finally decided to just go buy a used vehicle. I always wanted a truck. I could use a truck to get my ass to work reliably, as well as hauling shit from point A to point B. I did some Internet homework by locating trucks on local lots. I also learned that dealers do not update their web listings nearly as often as they should… lazy bastards. We hit three or four lots without any luck before finding a nice 1994 Ford F-150 on a lot in Sedro Woolley. I signed 173 pages of shit, and drove the truck home.

It wasn’t long before the stereo in my new truck was bugging me, so I put in a new stereo, and a little later I spent the money for a new subwoofer.

July 22nd wasn’t a fun day. Nothing happened. The earth didn’t stand still. Planets didn’t line up. I did turn forty, however, and it sucked a fat one. It’s hard to believe that I’ve been alive for 4 decades, and can remember shit that happened in 1981 without the aid of Wikipedia. And the old joke about your memory being the first thing to go? Never. More. True. Sometimes, I’m as forgetful as Ronald Reagan appearing before the Tower Commission. Godammit, why do I remember that shit, but can’t remember to take out the garbage. I’m so freakin’ old.

Sometime during the summer, the company I work for decided to consolidate offices in Redmond and Oak Harbor into one big cock-waving office in a skyscraper in downtown Seattle. This started me and Tina looking for a place to live. It only took us a couple of weeks before we realized it would be better to buy a house than rent… which quickly turned into putting a new modular home on some land. I must have missed the biology class that covered the colon being lined with currency.

At the end of October, most of the employees of the Oak Harbor office celebrated their final day in the Log Cabin with a pizza lunch. After the weekend, our new place of employment would be the new office in the Westin Building in Seattle. Not much was different between Oak Harbor and Seattle, but the commute surely sucks.

Last month we had cataclysmic weather. We set a new rainfall record in November that makes the rain forest look like southern Arizona. Wind storms knocked power out for a few hours at least once, and we had our first snowfall. Mother Nature lulled us into a false sense of security in December, then unleashed a really big storm that blew over many trees and knocked out the electricity to more than a million power customers. Our power was restored after 26 hours, but others didn’t get power back for days.

So, there’s my boring-ass life in a nutshell. Three hundred and sixty five days distilled down to less than 1000 words. But 2007 is just around the corner and promises to be a little more exciting. I hope everyone’s Christmas (or whatever December holiday you celebrate) is a happy and safe one. Happy New Year!