Okay, so technically we are already a week into the holiday season — a month if you are using the retail calendar. So far so good. There are still a couple of LQFs [leftovers of questionable freshness] lingering in the fridge from last week. I am still basking in the glow of Texas' win over Texas A & M; giddy from the thrill of meeting Paul McCartney; and fairly confident, thanks to Dennis Leary's Merry F*#@ing Christmas Special, that this year will suck as bad as Dickensian-like holidays of yore.

However, it is still November, two hours and thirteen minutes to be precise, before that gigantic twelve falls into place on my digital calendar, signaling the advent of that holiday wrapped morass that I like to call the Christmas spirit.

I am the only one who watches A Christmas Carol and thinks "Boy, Jacob Marley was one lucky son-of-a-bitch. He's dead?" Hey, chains or not, he doesn't have to smile complacently at co-workers for the next twenty-odd days. But I digress. Think of this blog as my personal advent calendar to you all. I will try to write each and every one of the next 25 days. All you have to do is open the little door — maybe I'll even figure out a way to post some chocolate along the way. Ho Ho Ho.