Bloodless Coup

"I never saw Andre the Giant hit the ground...

And this kind of thing (scroll down for the Christmas tale and skip the NSFW thumbnails) is why I decided not to have a tree this year:

I never saw Andre the Giant hit the ground, because at this exact moment I was awoken from my dream by a crashing sound from the living room. "What the fuck was that?!"I yelled none too politely, but I knew the answer before it came. Please let it be a drunk driver who had just crashed his car into the front of my house. Please let it be a plane that crashed into my back lanai. Just don't let it be what I think it is. "The Christmas tree just fell over."

Mother. Fucker.

You see, here's the deal. All through the Air Force and living in Massachusetts and New Hampshire and back to Massachusetts and then down here to Florida, I've always "gone home" for Christmas. Back to Rochester, NY. I've never actually celebrated Christmas in my own fucking house; I'm always the guy in from out of town for a week. Last year I decided enough was enough, I'm staying in my own house for Christmas this year and while my door is open to all who want to enter, I'm keeping my fat ass here. And so for my first Christmas, I made myself a promise of pulling out all the stops. And so I went out and bought The Tree. It was eleven feet tall, but it's down to ten and a half now after some trimming. And it was perfect; healthy, straight, full, symmetrical, no bare spots, smelled nice, the whole smash. It cost twice as much as the same tree up in New England, but hey that's the cost of living where the coconuts grow. Anyway, in the back of the pickup it goes and after a little struggling I manage to get The Tree up and balanced. And when I say balanced, I mean fucking perfectly. This is one of those things I'm OCD on; I mean this motherfucker was dead God damned center and straight up and down as a fucking arrow. (Yes, I'm starting to get pissed off again). Right after I had it set up, I briefly considered using some fishing line to secure it, but after a few test shakes with no hint of a lean I decide, "Nah, it's perfectly balanced, why bother?" Yeah, we'll revisit those fateful words in a minute. Anyway, I get all the ornaments out of the attic. Bought a new tree skirt. Went out and bought 1,000 energy saving white lights (incandescent, I think the LEDs look like shit). I put it altogether and it looks FUCKING TITS. I mean perfect. Martha Stewart would swing by my house to drop off some mashed potatoes and say, "Goddamn!" And for the next six days I baby this tree. I always keep the two gallon water basin full right to the brim. Always mix in some of the tree food they gave me. I sang to the motherfucker as I was hanging the fucking ornaments. I even let it watch television past 9pm. Yes, this tree had it fucking made.

And just for the record, yes, on the first Christmas after I moved into my house with 10 foot ceilings, I decided I needed to get the 9 foot tree. Which also happened to be about 9 feet in diameter and required wiring to two walls to stay upright. So, yeah. I can identify.

Via.