Boy, I tell you what, I like shopping on Christmas for the kids. I love the kids. But let me tell you something, avoid these words on Christmas: ‘Easy-To-Assemble’. ‘Easy-To-Assemble’. You know, that’s an old Indian phrase that stands for ‘four hours, 37 F-words and calling an electrician’. Good Lord! Don’t nothing come assembled no more?
Here I sit, one day after Christmas with four bleeding cuts, a bent screwdriver and indentions on my hind end from sitting on a package of Phillips head screws, and I’m closer to nailing Shania Twain than I am to putting together this damned two-wheel Christmas scooterThe feller at thе store says, ‘Oh, it’s easy. Ten minutеs at the most, you gonna have it finished.’ Well, that’s what I get for listening to the retard they hired to help out down there at the toy store on Christmas EveYou gotta have a dadgum degree from the Ivy League to figure this garbage out! What ever happened to ‘Insert screw A into hole B’? The way God intended it, like it says in the scriptures. Nowadays you gotta measure, drill, sand, glue, weed-whack and who the hell knows what else with these kid’s toys. If I wasn’t such a good Christian, I’d have took them scooter wheels and went back there at the toy store and shoved ’em so far up that salesman’s hind end, he’d have skid marks on his liverTry and do something nice for the kids at Christmas, buy ’em a nice Jesus’ birthday scooter, and now the dadgum thing won’t roll, ’cause the sorry toy store retard thought I could assemble it myself! I was gonna buy the floor model, but no, I gotta be Captain Moron and be the guy on the TV show This Old House and screw it up, sending another Christmas straight into the crapper’Easy-To-Assemble’. Bah humbug! Merry Christmas. Git-R-Done!