On Vodka, on Soda, on Blender, on Mixer!

Walden Schmidt: 'Twas the night before Christmas when all down the beach not a creature was stirring, not even a leech. Alan was nestled, all snug in his bed, while visions of lesbians danced in his head. Brooke and Jenny were sleeping, a long winter's nap, surrounded by bottles with nary a cap. Jenny was nervous and frightened, but took a big chance. She let Brooke in her heart, as well as her pants. While Berta in her vest and I in my hattie had just baked our brains out with a big Christmas fatty. We started to doze, we hadn't a care. Happy Christmas to all. My balls have no hair.