Have a look at this festive tree. Go on, gaze up on it.
For today’s giveaway, we can ponder this beautiful image and get creative. What better way to be inspired than by 9’ Pre-Lit White Crystal Pine Upside Down Artificial Christmas Tree. And as you gaze upon the inverted, perhaps subverted, wonder, ask yourself this burning, delightful question:
What Christmas carols would have been written had all trees looked like 92-pound $800.00 upside-down white-frosted vaginas?
Because this is CLEARLY a case for a ding dong merrily on high.
Leave your suggestion, your parody, or your suggestive carol goodness in the comments during the next 24 hours, and winner gets NOT that tree. No, I wouldn’t do that. The horror! The winner will get a $50 gift certificate to Amazon.com, suitable for purchasing many, many joyful things.
[Thanks to Iron Lesbian #2 for the link].
That thing looks like Satan’s IUD. Or Hell’s own FUD.
In which case, I suppose “I’m Peeing on a White Whizmas” might be appropriate, but it’s not a carol 🙂
Oh Tanner! You’re DeBaum!
We Three Kings (of Orient need a real woman)
Phal la la la la, la la la lus…..
(To the tune of Deck the Halls)
Or of course the classic Jingle Balls!
‘Twas three weeks before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a mouse.
Poor James was fifteen,
Precisely the age that makes Dad’s thoughtlessness so mean
For what boy deserves to see
Clear as day,
A white frosted vajayjay
Instead of a Christmas tree?
Poor Jimmy, bless his heart, he couldn’t stop looking
And his mother’s laughter was smothered by the sound of cooking.
Dear daddy was clueless, he wondered why his son was so red
When sweet little Kimmy, age 6, got out of bed.
She came down the stairs, dragging Mr. Scruff
And when she saw the tree, she hugged the cuddly fluff.
She thought for a moment, and said “Daddy, is that the tree picked by you?”
“Yes, Kimmy-dear,” said Daddy.
“Oh, good,” said Kimmy.
“For a second, I thought it was a fuzzy white hoo-hoo.”
O Come, All Ye Horny
God Rest Ye Merry Merkin.
Oh, dear. That does indeed look like a big white vulva. What in the world could they have been thinking?
Wow. Just wow. 9’ of white holiday cheer. I’m sure I should be able to come up with something but am just stunned…
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas tree…
No, actually, they’re more like nightmares!
Frosty Tree for presents, now with more vagina,
for the greedy and the needy and the sexually confused,
singing “more presents if you can!”
But there are only 2 left…do you think they started with 10 and sold 8… is that possible?
Winter Wonderland
Oh holy something… just wow. I’ve seen the upside down green trees, but in sparkling white, it’s somehow more.. something.
Wow!
I can only offer the first thing that popped into my head:
“Oh Come Let Us Adore It!”
One fuzzy white g-string for the holidays: $799.99
Getting it wrapped and under the tree in time for Christmas: $7.00
The look on Mary Sue’s face when she opens that box: priceless
My apologies to the Good Doctor.
Then the Grinchette thought of something she hadn’t before!
“Maybe Christmas,” she thought, “doesn’t come from a store.
“Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more!”
And what happened then…?
Well…in Who-ville they say
That the Grinchette’s small coochie
Grew three sizes that day!
And the minute her cooch didn’t feel quite so tight,
She whizzed with her load through the bright morning light
And she brought back the toys! And the food for the feast!
And she…
..SHE HERSELF…!
The Grinchette lurved the roast beast!
Really can’t beat the lolcats: “Deck the halls with barfed up holly!”
Oh, Cum, Oh, Cum, Emmanuel
or
I’m Dreaming of a Tight White Cervix
or
wait, my daughter says I can’t read these in front of my grandson.
Sorry. I guess the Jingle Balls version will have to wait.
Oh, man. That’s terrible. And I just couldn’t resist! Please sing along to the tune of “The Christmas Song” (“Chestnuts roasting” and all that….)
Vajayjays sitting in the living room
The yeast smell nipping at your nose
Dirty jokes being sung by a choir
And folks dressed up like penises.
Everybody knows a vajayjay and some mistletoe
Help to make the season bright
Tiny tits with their nips all aglow
Will find it hard to sleep tonight
Instead of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus,” perhaps, “I Saw Daddy Kissing Mommy’s Drawers”? What about “Deck the Halls with K-Y Jelly?”
The Fluffy Muff of Christmas
Chet’s nuts roasting on an open fire
Jack Frost nipping at your twat
I’m dreaming of some white thong undies….
I want a white vajayjay for Christmas…only a white vajajay will do….
[I think that “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” is suggestive holiday goodness (but then, I was the one chortling everytime I heard “blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord” as a teen).]
But, in true response to the image, which makes me think of ejaculate in sub zero temperatures: “He (it) Came Upon a Midnight Clear!”
My first thought was that “O Come All Ye Faithful” will never seem the same to me again.
(begging forgiveness in advance…)
Grandma got run over by a reindeer
walkin’ home from our house Christmas eve.
You can say there’s no such thing as Santa.
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.
She’d been drinkin’ too much egg nog.
And we’d begged her not to go.
But she’d forgot her medication,
and she staggered out the door into the snow.
When we found her Christmas mornin,’
at the scene of the attack.
There wasn’t much around of my poor grandma
just a snow-covered vulva and her back.
Now we’re all so proud of Grandpa.
He’s been takin’ this so well.
See him in there watchin’ football,
drinkin’ beer and playin’ cards with cousin Belle.
It’s not Christmas without Grandma.
All the family dressed in black.
And we just can’t help but wonder:
Should we open up her gifts or send them back?
Now the goose is on the table.
And the pudding made of fig.
And a christmas tree of vulva,
that perfectly matches the hair in Grandma’s wig.
I’ve warned all my friends and neighbors.
“Better watch out for yourselves.
“Or your vulva will be stapled to your spine,
And decorated with your heart and valves.”
. . .
Honestly, the carol did most of the work for me (original text here.
Oh, come, oh, come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Isabelle,
Who groans in lovely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come in you, O Isabelle!
Oh, come, under the vulva tree,
Which ordered all things mightily;
To you the path of orgasm will show,
and teach you in her ways to go.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come in you, O Isabelle!
Oh, come, oh, come, oh man of might,
Who to your bride on Christmas night
Before the fire gave sweet caress
Through the satin of her dress.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come in you, O Isabelle!
Oh, come O Rod of Jesse’s stem,
And dare to raise that lacy hem.
Trust that the might of your staff
Will bring your vict’ry at the last.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come in you, O Isabelle!
Oh, come, O Key of David, come,
And open wide your heav’nly “home;”
Make safe the way that leads through your thighs,
And deafen him with lustful cries.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come in you, O Isabelle!
For some reason, “O Come All ye Faithful” keeps popping into my head when I look at that “tree.”
Upside-down white frosted ‘ginas
Glittering merrily tonight
This frozen muff reaching for the sky was
Filling my di-iii-ing dong with delight
Gloooooooooooooooooooria~ white frosted vaginas
Gloooooooooooooooooooria~ white frosted vagi-iiii-naaas
Even so I don’t know, don’t know
What prompted this odd tradition
And “oh, oh, oh!”
Mrs. Claus must be singin’
Gloooooooooooooooooooria~ white frosted vaginas
Gloooooooooooooooooooria~ white frosted vagi-iiii-naaas
My ‘Matin Chime’ was delightfully primed,
Ye swingers
By this salacious Evetime rhyme
(And a couple of fingers!)
Gloooooooooooooooooooria~ white frosted vaginas
Gloooooooooooooooooooria~ white frosted vagi-iiii-naaas
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas snatch…just like the one I had before….where the tree top glistens
“Here comes Santa Claus”, in the family that is really serious when they say “sex education should be done at home.” Complete with visual aids.
Where’s the clitoris? Where’s the clitoris?
Right down near the tip?
No, I think it’s someplace else.
My god, you’re such a dip!
All you really need to do
Is feel around a while
And the part that makes her jump’s
The winner by a mile…
Oh, that’s…oh.
Need to interupt party to show them this.
On an unrelated note, I forgot to say thank you very much to the Bitches in my email, regarding the tote bag contest. The link to the comments on that post isn’t working, so I’m leaving it here.
how24? As in how could I have forgotten, since I’ve been reminding my daughter to say that, 24 hours a day?
Gives a whole new meaning to “Fruit of thy womb…”
Not written by me but my favorite parody is “God Bless Ye Unitarians” (reproduced below. You might also enjoy the Twelve PC Days of Christmas (“Twelve males reclaiming their inner warrior through ritual drumming.”)
—Janice
Gods rest ye, Unitarians, let nothing you dismay
Remember there’s no evidence there was a Christmas Day
When Christ was born is just not known, no matter what they say
O, Tidings of reason and fact, reason and fact
Glad tidings of reason and fact
Our current Christmas customs come from Persia and from Greece
From solstice celebrations of the ancient Middle East
This whole darn Christmas spiel is just another pagan feast
O, Tidings of reason and fact, reason and fact
Glad tidings of reason and fact.
There was no star of Bethlehem, there was no angels’ song
There could not have been Wise Men for the trip would take too long
The stories in the Bible are historically wrong
O, Tidings of reason and fact, reason and fact
Glad tidings of reason and fact
As for the contest: “The terrible winter storm season claimed another victim today”
She was afraid to come down the chimney
She was as nervous as she could be
She was afraid to come down the chimney
She was afraid that somebody would see
Two, three, four, tell the people what she wore
It was an itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, frosted white tree bikini
That she wore for the first time today
An itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, frosted white tree bikini
So on the roof she wanted to stay
Two, three, four, stick around we’ll tell you more
She was afraid to come out in the open
And so a blanket around it did go
She was afraid to come out in the open
And so she sat bundled up in the snow
Two, three, four, tell the people what she wore
It was an itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, frosted white tree bikini
That she wore for the first time today
An itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, frosted white tree bikini
So in the blanket she wanted to stay
Two, three, four, stick around we’ll tell you more
Now she’s afraid to climb back in the sleigh
And I wonder what she’s gonna do
Now she’s afraid to climb back in the sleigh
And poor Mrs. Claus is turning blue
Two, three, four, tell the people what she wore
It was an itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, frosted white tree bikini
That she wore for the first time today
An itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, frosted white tree bikini
So at the North Pole she wanted to stay
(From the chimney to the blanket)
(From the blanket to the snow)
(From the snow to the sleigh)
Mrs. Claus is not a ho.
God rest ye, merry gentlemen,
let nothing you dismay.
I’m telling you that womenfolk
Were born and made that way.
They call it cooter, pussy, snatch,
Or sometimes va-ja-jay.
OOHHH!!! Tidings of comfort and joy!
Comfort and joy!
OOHH!!! Tidings of comfort and joy!
Now heed me, merry gentlemen,
When in that special place,
Unlike your dick, a cootchie
Needs more than a mere embrace.
Use fingers, feathers, toys, and lube,
Yes, even use your face!
OOHH!!! Tidings of comfort and joy!
Comfort and joy!
OOHH!!! Tidings of comfort and joy!
Frosty the Pussy
It came upon the midnight clear,
That viscous liquid of olde,
From Johnson fisting near the hearth,
Touching his shaft of gold:
“Beast of girth, the will to spend,
My seven-incher will make me King.”
The vulva in rippling excitement lay splayed,
To feel the pecker’s zing.
Still through the hairy balls they cum,
With hardened pole unfurled,
And still his sapid manjuice flows
Aching to shot its load;
“Beast of girth, the will to spend,
My seven-incher will make me King.”
The vulva in rippling excitement lay splayed,
To feel the pecker’s zing.
Yet without the rod of sinful life
The bearded clam has suffered long;
Although the jism has freely flowed
A thousand tears of doing without dong;
A man in love with money shots cares not
“Beast of girth, the will to spend,
My seven-incher will make me King.”
(sorry, that’s all I have time for. If anyone’s interested I can try to work on them tomorrow.)
Happy holidays!