Post #10: “I’m Dreaming of a Sweltering Christmas”

Good morning, world!  Hopefully you’ve all recovered from last week’s news, now it’s time to get back to your regularly scheduled program.  I came to a realization this week that I imagine most of my American readers haven’t considered yet.  Bing Crosby and I decided to put together a little something to help you realize it too. Warning: not safe for work or mom.

(Thanks for the help, Jason.  You’re a master at your craft )

That’s right, dear readers.  Australians aren’t ALL heathens, they still celebrate Christ’s birth the way God intended it: a holiday tradition of buying tons of shit and secretly wanting to murder the person in line in front of you.  The only difference, however, is that when Aussies do it, it’s FUCKING HOT!

It was a balmy 96 degrees the other day, and it’s still spring.  Toowoomba is also one of the cooler places around.  Good ole December 25th is summertime, and I’m expecting a scorcher.  Instead of Christmas carolers all wrapped up and cheery, we’ll be getting pissed off bogans swimming around in their own pools of sweat.  That’s right, there will be crazy Australian rednecks trying to find their own ways to stay cool:

Now, as a quick side note, I had the great idea to try and find that picture and similar ones by typing “hot sweaty redneck” into Google.  That might have been the biggest mistake of my life.  Go ahead, sate your curiosity.  I’ll wait.

What really gets me is the fact that Australia is not the only country in the southern hemisphere.  Literally half of the entire globe has Christmas in the summertime, but the thought had never even crossed my mind before I came here.  Imagine what this joyous time every year would be like if we had grown up in the southern hemisphere?

There would be no snow boots during Christmas time, there would be sandals. That song about chestnuts roasting on an open fire?  Fuck open fires.  I will have no time for open fires; I will be too busy frantically searching the state for ice that hasn’t already turned into steam.  Snowball fights wouldn’t exist; instead we’d be throwing balloons filled with our own sweat at each other.  Gross, I know.

This completely changes my thought of Santa.  You picture this big jolly fat guy, using his own natural blubber to keep warm and a thick red and white coat to keep from freezing his ass off at speeds of a billion miles per hour, zipping around the globe.  Hell no, this is what Mr. Yuletide looks like in an Australian Christmas:

He even shaved his moustache.  Still has that pimpin’ hat, though.

That’s it for this week, short and sweet.  Feel free to add that music clip to your iPod and rock out to it while you’re at the gym.  Bing and I don’t mind.  As always, your feedback matters to me!  Honestly.  Feel free to help me advertise on facebook if you like the blog.  Be safe.

Austin