GLENN W. MACAULAY

Blame video games

I’ve had my share of problems in life; everything from broken bones to toad shortages and beyond. It would be ludicrous for my to bottle up my signature coping methods and keep them in my basement along with a trunk my grandfather left me that screams every 13th night. I’d look inside but it’s way too sticky.

I’m now 31 years old, which is almost halfway to being able to buy tweed without feeling like Sherlock Holmes’ clingy nephew. I feel that I have enough life experience that it would be worthwhile to try to help you with your problems. What’s on your mind today?

Is it your relationship?

As long as you look good nude, don’t worry. Every other problem can be solved with a pitcher of iced tea and a plate of realistic dolls. The dolls are for role playing and the iced tea is for refreshment and to provide a neutral topic of discussion. If one of you is from Kentucky, this won’t work–use decaffeinated coffee instead. Whatever man, I’m married so I don’t really care and no one gave me advice so if you don’t like what I’m selling then get off the train, onto the raft and to the island full of tarantulas and really ugly flowers.

Are you worried about school or a test at school?

Chances are your teacher does not give a shit about anything you do. All they care about is vacation and something called “planning time”. No one told me what to do at school and here I am, still crisping up bacon and keeping my shoelaces knotted to slightly resemble the letters “G” and “M”. You think I was taught that shit? Nah son, I taught myself using nothing but a length of twine and a papaya. I could’ve used my shoe but no one taught me anything about teaching yourself things.

Do you feel that you’re not where you want to be in life?

Who cares? When I feel shitty I think about how months, days and years are were made up by farmers to make sure their wheat didn’t get old. When I separate life from that stuff I feel better, but the downside is that it makes Christmas feel like no big deal. Speaking of which, it’s not like I got a new watch for Christmas–I mean, how much are they, like fifty bucks? It’s not like I asked for a talking gold watch with fuckin’ built-in diamond detectors, did I?

This is how rich people tell time

Did you lose something special to you?

The worst thing I’ve ever lost is my wallet and I got it back not soon after I lost it. The point is, if you lose something it’s your fault unless you mean like, you lost your father, which isn’t your fault unless you were the one who got him addicted to toothpaste.

Do your friends read your advice and never reciprocate?

You should really care about this and take it to heart. I know this writer who wrote a new blog almost every day, each one filled with advice and in-depth reviews of famous clan tartans and his friends didn’t give him shit back. I mean this guy pumped out some truly outrageous life chunks and no one even told him how to do it in the first place.

BONUS

Did you spill vegetable oil all over your stove because you’re not good at pouring things and taking your time?

I did! Ahahaha, little joke at the end, you know? I’ll be back next week with a detailed account of my weekend showers. Chances are they’ll be warm and long.

Pour yourself a glass of squeezed spices!
Get a zit just because it fits the theme!
Hug everything you’ve ever owned!
Throw ice cubes all over the house!

And finish your Advent calendar! You gather the whole family around and tell them about all the treats you’ve got so far. Your nephew calls bullshit on the invisible diamonds until you put one under his glass ass causing him to squeak in pain. You then light the calendar on fire and as it smoulders on the ground your final prize is slowly revealed…

A bulk package of everything you’ve ever owned presented by the competent staff at the Yawn Barn Hotel! Perfect, just perfect.

I hope you enjoyed this year’s Advent calendar brought to you by hard work and dedication. I’ll be back in the new year with brand new Internet-suitable content aimed at making your days feel more like nights and your nights more like underwater. Happy Holidays.

So far you’ve opened every Advent calendar treat basin at the stroke of midnight of each new day, but since you got arrested last night for walking too fast in the mall, you’re forced to perform the task in the morning. While eyeing the clock and rolling your eyes repeatedly, you sarcastically snip the twine covering today’s basin. Inside you find:

The mascot of the community college you went to! Water River College had a fairly decent batch of archery referees, but the school was more known for the antics of their mascot, “Rudy Holiday” who represented the Fightin’ Everythings at all major events.

Only ONE day until you get horny at a really weird time and are forced to stare into the fireplace until it subsides.

You show your last client out through the beaded curtain and count the day’s take. Christmas time is always lucrative but you don’t think you’ve ever taken in so much in one day. Most people wanted to contact dead love ones to let them know what they would’ve got them for Christmas while a few wanted to contact Jesus. Only one guy agreed to the rather outlandish price charged for such a premium communication, and like all others who agree he was disappointed that the son of God was a bit too nice. You left your Advent calendar on the bus but you use your last bit of crystal to imagine what today’s treat is. You get a vision that looks like this:

At first you don’t trust your own third eye but then you think about iPods and shit and you’re like “Nothing is crazy anymore”. You really wish you could see the guy’s ears.

Only two days left until you have to use a dime as a guitar pick because your girlfriend didn’t think to get any when she bought the guitar.

You return home from tobogganing with a scrape on your butt that kind of looks like the Warner Bros. logo. You find a bowl to sit in and pop “A Phantom of the Opera Christmas” into your DVD player while a pot of warm orange juice slowly simmers on the stove. Before you get to your favourite part in the movie where the Phantom gets tricked into looking for Santa at the bottom of a lake, you pry open today’s Advent latch to retrieve today’s offering.

A new eyeball in a very handsome box! There’s nothing that indicates who the ball belongs to but based on the beautiful grey-blue hue it probably belongs to a very trustworthy babe.

Only three days left until you fuckin’ pray Santa isn’t real because you just got new shingles and lady, they ain’t dry yet.

The kiln is going to take another twenty minutes or so to get hot enough to bake your clay ladder. You’re going to need that ladder to climb up to the new kiln designed to bake pottery as well as real deal Neapolitan pizza. You let Nick take the rest of the afternoon off so he can line-up at the pet store for the new geckos, the ones that don’t smell. This is a good a time as any to unveil today’s Advent loot. With burned and calloused fingers you rub away the protective coating to reveal:

The world’s worst pair of jeans! Okay, so it sounds bad when I put that way, but the world’s worst anything is very valuable. You can put these babies in a frame and hang them next to all your championship banners and photos of under-appreciated character actors. OR you can run them up your flag pole and declare allegiance to the rich history of human garments. 

Only four days left until you get more socks than your know what to do with and that’s just fine because daaaaaamnnn they feel fresh. 

My new Christmas single was released today on Wiggly Records. Check it out below. All proceeds from the sale of the single will go toward Kids Without Beards, which is a pretty great charity benefitting most kids. And below that you can find my 2012 single that helped over 600 adults find a brand of gum they can call their “usual”.

You get to the airport three days early, just in case. You find a nice seat in Terminal 2 close to the Tim Horton’s and next to a very well designed garbage/recycling combination bin. Paradise. You burn through your queue of podcasts in just four hours and wonder what to do before you grab a bagel for dinner. You rifle around your rucksack and beneath the pile of every US Magazine from 2013, you find your Advent calendar. You encourage any children in the vicinity to watch you unveil today’s gift but the only taker is an old lady who thinks you’re her cat. She helps you remove the velcro window to reveal:

A limited edition Beastie Boys figurine set from the Hello Nasty era! RIP MCA. These will go great with your Fishbone nativity scene. The old lady asks if you’d like some milk and you say “yes!” while wrapping the delicate figurines in one of the scarves you were going to gift to the pilot of the plane you’ll be flying in. They’re millionaires anyway, right?

Only five days left until you start feeling sad that your “Girls And Their Sauces” calendar will soon be obsolete.