Happy holidays, scrappy readers!

I didn't have a chance to wrap this, although you probably wouldn't notice the difference; my "gift wrapping" abilities are limited to the following items: gift bags, ribbons, confetti, and large bows. Anything more elaborate, including, but not limited to, tissue paper origami and the conservatism of traditional wrapping paper, is way, way out of my league; my gift-wrapped presents look like someone has already unwrapped and rewrapped said presents using the original paper. Not pretty.

We're getting into the holiday mood over here at The Scrappy Octopus. For instance, just the other night, during the second intermission during the game about which we are no longer speaking, I found it extremely cathartic to use my aggression in a productive way, such as DESTROYING dozens of candy canes with a rolling pin and a hammer to make peppermint bark. And the end result was so yummy, you'd think watching Evil defeat Good would be something we could get behind every day. [Insert eye roll/gag reflex/renal failure here.]

Anyway, because Christmas is nigh and especially because I've been holding out on a little bit of magic I have in my possession, I present my Christmas gift to you, my very fabulous and scrappy readers. Thanks for reading and seemingly enjoying the inanity we specialize in over here. You guys are the best. Here's to wonderful holidays for you and yours. (Programming note: Posting may be spotty over here through the new year due to required holiday bullshit; then again, we may blow off the whole family crap and take to ranting on here in lieu of creating cherished memories with our loved ones. You never know what to expect with us. Wild card, bitches.)

Now, without further adieu, I give you the following unequivocal, unparalleled, and unadulterated evidence that Red Wings fans party harder, better, and more awesome(r) than anyone else in the history of the universe:



(I have contributed nothing to the above present other than the obviously stellar drunken camerawork and poorly-stifled giggling. It's all my partner-in-crime, Ballin' B.)