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Christmas Story for those having a bad day!

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  • Christmas Story for those having a bad day!






    When four of Santa's elves got sick, the trainee elves did not produce toys as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel the Pre-Christmas pressure.

    Then Mrs Claus told Santa her Mother was coming to visit, which stressed Santa even more.

    When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out, Heaven knows where.

    Then when he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered.

    Frustrated, Santa went in the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum. Whe n he went to the cupboard, he discovered the elves had drank all the cider and hidden the liquor. In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider jug, and it broke into hundreds of little glass pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found the mice had eaten all the straw off the end of the broom.

    Just then the doorbell rang, and irritated Santa marched to the door, yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.
    The angel said very cheerfully, 'Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't this a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to put it?'

    And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.








    I Love My Computer Because My Friends Live In It

  • #2
    that's really funny.

    I can totally understand how santa felt!
    full time mum and very very part time crafter.

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    • #3
      I sent that to my OH it is sooo his sence of humor.
      "You've Got to Keep Your Mind Wide Open" - AnnaSophia Robb
      my Folksy shop Goldy'sclearoutblog debaynewebdesign


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      • #4
        Funny....


        www.folksy.com/shops/sandrute

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        • #5
          Very good. I know not to annoy santa now.
          View my flickr

          'I am sure it must hurt your eyes to work filigree by candlelight.' - Jane Austen

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          • #6
            That's excellent!! Very funny.

            Si.
            Wood Tattoos
            Decorative Pyrography for all Occasions - Author of "Woodburning with Style" (2010) and "Learn to Burn" (2013)
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            • #7
              Very funny
              my blog: http://debsjeans.blogspot.com/

              Facebookhttp://www.facebook.com/home.php#/pa...ls/48962246861

              my misi.me http://www.misi.me.uk/store_info.php?user_id=879

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              • #8
                Excellent lol

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                • #9
                  Love It!!!!!!!
                  Diane
                  Reach for the moon-if you miss-you'll still be amongst stars




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                  • #10
                    I need a cloth to wipe the coffee from my puter screen!

                    Auntynet

                    Step-daughter's website selling hand dyed sock yarns www.knotanotherknitter.com




                    ~ * ~ * ~ Of all the things I've ever lost, I miss my mind the most! ~ * ~ * ~

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                    • #11
                      Hee hee
                      MISI - http://www.misi.me.uk/store_info.php?user_id=741

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                      • #12
                        That was a really good funny Christmas story.....now how about taking it to the other extreme....I am fairly sure you will need a tissue at the end of this story....personally I had to go wash my face cause it wrecked me.
                        Di

                        Baby's Hug ~

                        We were the only family with children in the restaurant.
                        I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and
                        talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, 'Hi.' He pounded
                        his fat baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in
                        laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and
                        giggled with merriment.

                        I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose
                        pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of
                        would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and
                        unwashed.
                        His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so
                        varicose it looked like a road map.

                        We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands
                        waved and flapped on loose wrists. 'Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy.
                        I see ya, buster,' the man said to Erik.
                        My husband and I exchanged looks, 'What do we do?'

                        Erik continued to laugh and answer, 'Hi.'

                        Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man.
                        The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal
                        came and the man began shouting from across the room, 'Do ya patty cake?
                        Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek- a-boo.'

                        Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk.

                        My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik,
                        who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who
                        in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.

                        We finally got through the meal and headed for the door.
                        My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking
                        lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. 'Lord, just let me
                        out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,' I prayed. As I drew closer
                        to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he
                        might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with
                        both arms in a baby's 'pick-me-up' position. Before I could stop him,
                        Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man.

                        Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their
                        love and kinship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission
                        laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's eyes closed,
                        and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime,
                        pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back. No
                        two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time.
                        I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and
                        his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding
                        voice, 'You take care of this baby.'
                        Somehow I managed, 'I will,' from a throat that contained a stone.

                        He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were
                        in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, 'God bless you, ma'am,
                        you've given me my Christmas gift.'

                        I said nothing more than a muttered thanks. With Erik in my arms, I ran
                        for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik
                        so tightly, and why I was saying, 'My God, my God, forgive me.'
                        I had just witnessed Christ's love shown through the innocence of a tiny
                        child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and
                        a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind,
                        holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking, 'Are you willing
                        to share your son for a moment?' when He shared His for all eternity.
                        The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, 'To enter ... , we must
                        become as little children.'



                        If this has blessed you, please bless others by sending it on. Sometimes,
                        it takes a child to remind us of what is really important. We must always
                        remember who we are, where we came from and, most importantly, how we feel
                        about others. The clothes on your back or the car that you drive or the
                        house that you live in does not define you at all; it is how you treat
                        your fellow man that identifies who you are.
                        This one is a keeper.
                        'It is better to be liked for the true you, than to be
                        loved for who people think you are......'
                        Something Shiny Something Sparkly
                        Handmade Tiaras & Jewellery by Diana @ dizaTIARAS
                        My blog
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                        • #13
                          Aw Dizzy that was lovely. Snow Angel I have copied yours to print in our Christmas news sheet at Age Concern Drop In, I do hope you don't mind.
                          Thankyou.
                          Carol
                          God helps them that help themselves.

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