The Mrs. Xmastime Top 10 Has 2 New Entries

original Mrs. Xmastime list HERE 

Shannon Elizabeth and Uma Thurman. Uma in particular might find herself in the Hallowed Top 5; my hesitancy coming from thinking I might be swooning for her partly cause she reminds me of someone I was in love with, so adding love-fuel to that psychotic fire is best to be held in check by cold-blooded rationale. But sleep well Uma, I got a feeling you'll do fine. and Shannon, now that you dumped that loser husband of yours, all you gotta do is keep showing up on Lifetime movies with your lipstick sticking to your teeth and you can coast for years.

Of course, this means two of you lovely Mrs. Xmastimes are gonna have to go. This has always been, to me, the hardest part of choosing Mrs. Xmastime: the cuts. 2 very worthy ladies will have to be told that no matter how great they are, there just isn't any room for them on this short list. And I'm sorry for that. And I know having to wait through this interim while I decide only makes it harder; it means everyone on the list must spend the weekend wondering if they're the ones cut. Unless, of course, you once played Clair Huxtable on a major NBC sitcom in the 80's. Then you're safe.

You know, all these hot chicks having to wonder if they're one of the casualties here reminds me of something from my youth. Football my juunior year we got a new coach. Bubba Hooker. Was crazy as his name suggests. Had never coached high school before, only college, so his level of intensity was a liiiiiiittle higher than our homespun collection of rednecks, Adidas-wearing black kids and one in particular stunningly handsome, big-dicked, God-affirming slice of humana perfecta who did not tread on this earth as much as float. So practice begins in August, I guess the first week or so we don't use pads, we're just getting in condition, learning plays etc. MAYBE kissing a little, but not much. Then the first day with pads we basically spend 3 hours in 100-degree heat beating the shit out of each other; doing drill after drill where there's not even a ball involved, just whistles and hits. Hit hit hit hit hit. So anyway, the next day Coach is yammering and he tells us that he liked what he had seen the day before, we all hit hard and worked, etc etc. And he said that he only saw one coward amongst us, one coward who was scared of getting hit. We were like whaaa....looking around at each other, wondering who the fuck he could be talking about. He never said who he meant, and we all remembered that comment. You'd wonder throughout the season, was Coach talking about ME?? fuck him! and you'd really pin your ears back and wail on some motherfuckers. For years, we wondered who had he been talking about.

Of course many years later, I bolted straight up in bed as it flashed on me: it was a trick!! There wasn't one guy he had seen as a coward; he wanted each of us to think it was ourselves and push us to play wuith fury, unhinged agression driven white-hot by having our young manhoods challenged. Ha! Brilliant, I thought, shaking my head. Fucking brilliant.

Of course, it didn't work THAT great, as him being a bit of a psycho trimmed our team down from 51 guys to 16 and we won exactly one game. But hey. I never forgot that, and I think of it now as all these beautiful ladies have to go to bed tonite wondering if it's them that's not good enough, not pretty enough etc etc. Maybe it will drive them to hit the gym, get a titty job or jerk me off in the back of Topps Grocery Store, I dunno. But remember ladies, even if you are dropped to the 11th and 12th spots, I will still do you. There's "losing" and then there's "Xmastime won't fuck me."