The Marquis’ Intimate Diary

WEDNESDAY, 8 DECEMBER, 1999, PHILADELPHIA
My department at work is having a a dinner-thang tonight. One of the activities is a game called “Cut-throat Pollyanna”, wherein everyone brings a gift, wrapped. People draw numbers. #1 picks a prezzie. #2 then either takes #1’s prezzie or picks a new prezzie. #3 has the option of the two prezzies on the table, or another unopened one. Et cetera on down the line.

It sounds absolutely brutal and anti-xmas. I’m all for it.

My gift is ‘8 Tiny Reinbeer’, which is 8 Yeungling lagers in a hideous yellow, sunflowery, teddybear gift bag, with retarded reinbeer heads attached to the necks of the bottles and this descriptive text:

Everyone’s heard of Santa’s 8 little friends who help him pass out presents to all the good boys and girls.

Lesser spoken of are his other 8 little friends who simply help him pass out.

They are Bleary and Slurry and Stumblin’ and Schnockered, Drooly and Giggles and Blitzen…

and of course, Randolph the Red-Nosed Reinbeer…


Reinbeer