Beware the Vincent

It's proof. You go jewish and gifts cometh. Don't even gimme shit about opening early, it's Hanukkah and I am demanded to open things. The crazed ferver in which I do it however is questionable. See below, my eyes smack of opiates and candy canes.

That is Vincent. His Hebrew name is Samuel. Vincent is alarmingly heavy and expensive. I saw the price tag. He comes with worth attached right to him! That's bold!

Sure, my face looks ginormous, but spotted gifts do that to me.
Simon also loved the Vincent. Then we learned it was a demon.

We came come from gambling and I heard an odd "I love you" sounding from something. The fucking Vincent talks. I can't find where it's talk from, and the creepy fucker seems to be quite random with words. I won't lie, I flew three feet back from it when it talked. It's Chuckie like. I am now VERY scared of the god damned thing. Objects that chirp on their own are called Furbies and mine are locked in a closet for talking to eachother late at night.

Giraffes don't talk. They don't have vocal cords. So that mine speaks simply proves it's from the devil and plans to kill me. WTF is this thing. It's scared the whole house. It just arbitrarilly tells me "I love you". That's fucking creepy shit! But I'm petting it all nice because if I wake up and it is standing on the foot of the bed I am going fucking ballistic. I am SO not joking about this thing talking whenever it feels like it. We palptated it for where it is talking from.... nothing is in there, for real, there is no little box that it's yapping from. EEEEEEk

-DM