i think it was dennis miller who once discussed how strange the moments immediately following sex seem. you're looking around wondering who put a dog collar on you. you can't believe your wife allowed one of you to pour molasses all over her newest linens. you contemplate how you ever stretched her 'bad kitty' thong over your thighs and equally significant, how you expect to remove them. you know, all the usual suspects of a post-coital tryst.

this stupor aptly describes my sentiments regarding christmas. now that it is in the books, i look around my home wondering what idiot vomited this vast collection of red and green baubles everywhere and more importantly, why am i the schmuck expected to put it all away?