Ever make it with a fat guy with a whip and a giant sack?

Here comes a Santa Claus There goes a Santa Claus Right down Denny Way! Many are weaving Some are heaving That one’s missing teeth! Amidst the red-suited whirlwind One flashed my girlfriend That just doesn’t seem right. But as they say It’ll be OK ‘Cause Santa Claus came tonight!

On Saturday, I suited-up to join the red menace in Seattle. Other than shortening the sleeves, I didn’t make any significant alterations to my santa suit–there were a couple of things I would have liked to have done, but I was busy mutilating a reindeer.

Yes. Mutilating a reindeer.


Meet Stanley, the emo-deer. If you press his left front hoof, he sways and moans ‘Blue Christmas’. I hate Stanley. Napoleon had strong feelings about him as well, namely concerning Stanley’s throat and Napoleon’s birthright to put his teeth there. While I’m certain Napodog could have done a fine job ripping him a new asshole, I had more diabolical plans for Stanley.

…*I* ripped him a new asshole.


Stanley’s singing was on a whole new level of annoying; it was a true pleasure to cut him open at the bottom and rip his guts out, and slitting his throat was really the final insult. After he was good and dead, I crammed a flask up his ass filled with an uber-delicious gingerbread martini, for the greater good.


Now, in getting ready for this whole Santarchy thing, I made an important discovery: Santa lives at the North Pole for a reason, and that reason is because his choice of outfit is hotter than frigging hell. I reckon that the North Pole is one of the few places you can get around wearing velvet from head to toe, with big fur boots and being hairier than a Cap Hill bear, besides, without sweating to death. I made this discovery because I waited to put on my beard until I was fully-suited, and as it turns out, elastic bands made for the heads of adult males are slightly too big for my head and need to be bobby-pinned in place with no less than thirty pins, and that is antsy, fussy work when one is already sweating.

When my beard was finally pinned into place, I put on my wig and hat, grabbed my sack stuffed with candy canes, booze-filled chocolate, beads with visions of ‘Show Santa your tits’ dancing through my head, and, of course, the Stanley Flask.

As it turns out, being suited up as Santa walking down the street to the bus stop draws a LOT of attention. In the few minutes I was outside, a good twenty people honked and waved happily. Two teenage girls at the bus stop approached and asked if they could have their picture taken with me.

Santa ON the bus was a different story. Almost as soon as I boarded, a kid asked loudly “MOM, what is SANTA doing on the BUS?” Reply: “That’s a lady Santa, you just don’t worry about it.” I drew a lot of strange looks and sideways glances–what is it about riding the bus in a Santa suit that makes me presumed more likely to be a nutbag than walking down the street in a Santa suit? Is it a proximity issue? As soon as I got off the bus, a different little girl was delighted to see me, waving, with her eyes as big as saucers. Especially during moments like those, I was very careful to just smile and wave and not say anything, because I would never want to mess with a magical experience for a kid and the moment would be ruined the second she heard my ‘tampax-y commerial voice’, and aside from my girlish voice and feminine facial features, I think I made a pretty awesome damn Santa. Given that Santa is a fat man, I bet he has a hot rack, too, so I wasn’t too far out of character there.

So, to recap:

On the bus–Look at that crazy fucker in the santa suit, I hope the he-she doesn’t have a gun. Off the bus–Look, it’s Santa! I AM SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW I NEED TO SQUEAL IN DELIGHT.


From Westlake, I hopped another bus up to Capitol Hill, and that’s where I ran into my first two Santa allies. Once Santas are allied, the pressure to be Perfect Santa is off–one lone Santa could be real Santa, but three Santas together and kids know you’re not The One so you don’t need to worry about ruining them for life.

The first stop on the Santarchy tour was the Eylsian Brewery, which I completely missed while doing the antsypants dance at home and pinning my beard in place. The second stop was at the Comet Tavern, and things were already in full swing, music being blasted through bullhorns and pot smoke heavy in the air.



There I am in the lower right, the super-fuzzy santa and the santa with the shoulder bag in front of me are the two I met on the bus.



I gave this Santa some beads with a jingle bell attached, and Santa gave me a nip of tequila. IT HAD BEGUN. Soon, I was openly drinking from Stanley, jumping invisible double-dutch rope, and spanking elves. All too soon, it was time for the Santalympics; when it was time to move location, people started up the chant “Hey hey! Ho ho! Santa’s gotta go!” and it was fairly effective in rounding everyone up. The next location was Cal Anderson park–while we were walking past the basketball court, the tall Santa next to me ran over, grabbed the basketball, and asked “Who wants to see Santa slam-dunk?” We all agreed that would be spectacular, so he ran and completely missed the lay-up. This was immediately followed by heckling: “Santa needs to work on his vertical!” “I told you! Santa can’t jump!”


When we reached the fountain, we found that it had frozen over, and because none of us are particularly wise, we all climbed into the fountain and started ice-skating. Luckily, the ice did not crack under the weight of 100+ Santas AND I managed not to fall on my ass OR break my face. The Santa with the ‘Free Hugs’ sign moved out in to the middle of the fountain and shouted “FREE HUGS…NOW ON ICE!” and I decided to get in on that–we both ran toward one another, slid into the hug, and spun around.



Then Santa Jesus ran out onto the frozen surface and screamed “I’M WALKING ON WATER, EVERYBODY” and I very nearly wept with laughter.

One of the first Santalympics events was racing down the hill, seated on a block of ice. This is trickier than it sounds, getting the ice block in motion without sliding off yourself.


I got my block of ice going pretty quickly down the hill, and then popped off the front and slid for another couple of yards on my ass. It’s a wonder that my pants didn’t get grass stains.



It takes a certain level of trust to allow another deviant-minded Santa to spray a message on your back–everyone who did this was concerned that instead of a holiday message, they were going to end up with a great big cock on their backside.

While watching people get sprayed, I missed the Tug-of-War, but trotted over and was handed four giant candy canes and was told to organize some sort of Santa race. I decided that the most proper event would be a Santa Wheelbarrow Race, with the Santas acting as wheelbarrows holding the giant candy canes in their mouths.


I made them race pretty far, and rewarded the winners with booze-filled chocolate. The Santa on the left below was the winning wheelbarrow.


After the Santalympics Wheelbarrow Race, it was time for the traditional elf tossing. Here’s Santa setting up caution tape so ‘innocent’ Santa bystanders didn’t get cracked in the face with an elf or a reindeer.


I was one of the first to go, and, already a little shit-housed, I chose the unwise method of spinning around with the elf like I was participating in a shot-put event. As I let go of the elf’s hands, I stumbled and fell, the elf flew into the crowd and cracked someone in the face, and I still got an award for distance.


Granted, it wasn’t an EXTRAORDINARY distance, but I did make an effort. And I hurt someone.

I also broke my belt.


I would think that the belt would’ve lasted for more than one use, but I suppose it wasn’t intended for the sort of activities I was putting it through, either. Once a cheap vinyl belt like this has started ripping, there’s really no way to stem the tide. I kept notching it back, and eventually it would rip again, and again, until it got to the point where I could no longer fit it around my body, and then it was abandoned inside a bar.








During the elf-tossing event, I was handing out beads and more liquor-chocolates. I finished off Stanley, drank cider from some guy’s camelbak, some dude grabbed me and kissed me, and this guy showed me his ‘tits’.


I could’ve watched elf-tossing for a while longer, but hey hey, ho ho, Santa had to go.

…To put a great big bag of Dicks in his mouth.




I didn’t know ANY of these people at the start of the day, by the next bar stop, we were all chums. The guy to my right (photo right, in the beard) asked me to text him this photo, and on Sunday morning, he messaged me to make sure I’d gotten home all right. I suppose camaraderie isn’t all that unusual–it takes a certain sort of person to show up to these kinds of events, and having a baseline ‘Oh, hey, you like to dress up in costumes and dance in public and probably REALLY like attention’ isn’t a bad way to start getting to know people.


I think we can all be in agreement that this is the best Santa of them all.


Oh, and hey, here is a giant cock Santa going down on Santa’s giant cock.

At the Hurricane, I ran into strand, who dyed his hair green for the occasion and it looked FABULOUS. Of course, I didn’t get a picture because I fail on every conceivable level.

After we finished up at the Hurricane, it was time for the march across Denny, where we stopped on the overpass, waved at the vehicles on the freeway below, *cough* made out with stranger Santas, and probably committed at least six felonies.

By the time we got to the REI, it was almost time for me to leave–I bumped into Sam, who introduced me to her fiancé. It was nice to see her, but I had to do a ‘hi! bye!’ because I didn’t want to miss my bus. I found the intersection where I was supposed to catch the bus, but there was no actual stop there. I found the bus itself, stopped on the side of the road. There was no one aboard, not even a driver–I knocked on the door with no answer. I walked down the street a little bit to try to find the actual stop, my mouth full of the taste of Santa and booze, when I realized I really, really, really had to pee. Really badly. Oh, hello, random port-a-potty! Oh, hello, lock on port-a-potty door! FUUUUUDGE. I looked at the bus. I looked at the otherwise empty street. I looked at the brush under the overpass. I did the potty dance. I looked at the bus again. I made my decision, and precisely when I pulled my pants down, the bus started up and drove past me. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDGE. NOW how was I supposed to get to Bothell for Shannon’s Ugly Sweater and Elf party? I attempted to high-tail it to the transfer location, figuring that missing one bus wouldn’t necessarily mean I’d miss the other if I moved quickly enough, and then I realized that of all the things I am skilled at, moving quickly is not one of them, and no matter how quickly I shuffled, I wasn’t going to make it. I resolved to meet back up with the Santas and figure out another game plan. I don’t think I have Shannon’s phone number, so I sent a text message to Emily letting her know I’d missed the bus and would be unable to make it to Bothell.

Outside the something something bar (here is where things start to get a little fuzzy), I met xaotica for the first time, who is cute as a button. We decided to leave a little early to get the jump on the Santas for the next bar, so we could get a seat inside, and grab a hot dog and a beer. This was a wise decision–the amount of Santas in the group grew exponentially, and no one had bothered to let the bars on the route know they were on the route, so we were greeted by a solitary frazzled bartender. We each got a dog and a beer and as we ate, Santas flooded into the doors like a red tide. It was around this time that I noticed I’d missed a call from Emily, who said she’d come get me; when I called her back, I got Julia on the phone and we completely miscommunicated, because I would’ve been happy to accept a ride, and she thought I was blowing them off to continue partying, so I figured I would stay with the Santas and see if I couldn’t crash at Kim’s place for the night. For some reason, the bartender bought Kimberley and I our second round, and after we finished that (I had to cut myself off at a few sips because I knew I was rapidly approaching the Danger Zone, so I passed the drink along to another thirsty Santa), we went across the street to get some coffee, away from the drunken craziness for a bit.

It was around then that Jim called and offered to come get me; he was almost at Shannon’s, but was willing to drop in there for a minute to say hi and then turn around to come and pick me up. Twenty-odd minutes later, I said goodbye to Kim, hopped in Jim’s car, and rode across the water to Shannon’s place, not alltogether too much later than the bus would have gotten me there anyway. Emily got me some food, I told people a bit about my night, Shannon started the movie, and I promptly fell asleep on her couch. Apparently, (and while I don’t doubt that it’s true, I wish that it wasn’t) I started snoringsnoozing (cuter word) loudly enough that Shannon’s dog, Sophie, thought I was challenging her, and she started growling at me intently while I slept on the couch.

Without a doubt, I am the best party guest ever.

You’d better watch out Get out if you can! A red-suited menace is sweeping the land Cause Santa Clauses are coming to town.

Get out of the way of our fake black boots We’re flooding the city with our cheap red suits Santa Clauses are coming to town!

We know what you’ve been up to, you’ve made the naughty list. So cut us in for our fair share, you don’t want these Santas pissed


SOOOOO get out of the way of our red-suited wave Is this any way For St. Nick to behave? Santa Clauses have come to town!

31 Comments Ever make it with a fat guy with a whip and a giant sack?

  1. stationary_jew December 14, 2009 at 6:36 pm

    That all looked both colder and sunnier than I expect for Seattle.

    1. admin December 14, 2009 at 6:47 pm

      We hit nearly record-breaking cold temperatures this last week–I think the lowest low was eighteen degrees, and it didn’t go much above the freezing point. It’s usually a little warmer and wetter than that, but I’ll take cold and clear for outdoor activities over chilly and damp any day.

      1. stationary_jew December 14, 2009 at 8:52 pm

        I’m with you there. I just thought “chilly and damp” was the quintessential state of affairs up there.

        1. admin December 14, 2009 at 9:20 pm

          Nah, it’s just what disgruntled locals tell people to keep them from moving here.

  2. aquariumspast December 14, 2009 at 10:47 pm

    Epic. You really are the “LOTR” of posting…

    I will make two notes:

    1. We had a Santa doll that said “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merrrrrrrry Christmas!” and it grew to be my mom’s most despised decoration … pushing his button and running grew to be a favorite holiday tradition…

    2. I think people can imagine Santa walking around, because maybe the sleigh is parked, but once Santa gets on the bus, it just doesn’t mesh well with the mythology…

    1. admin December 14, 2009 at 11:10 pm

      hahahaha I can’t figure out if that’s a compliment or if you think I should’ve left out all the details on what exactly Frodo had for lunch and why elves were such excellent basketweavers.

      If anyone had asked me, I would have told them that the reindeer need to rest up for the big night.

      1. aquariumspast December 14, 2009 at 11:45 pm

        1. It’s either because the adventure never ends or because your posts have a will of their own…

        You can be the “POTC” of posting if you want, that would actually be an even bigger compliment from me, but you might need to throw some Aye’s in there or maybe a Savvy? now and then…

        2. And I’d be afraid to ask what exactly you meant by that…

        1. admin December 15, 2009 at 6:19 am

          As long as I don’t turn into the Matrix trilogy, it’s all good. XD

          1. aquariumspast December 16, 2009 at 3:57 pm

            I don’t have an acronym for that. And only the first movie would be a compliment, truly.

            But you could be the FOMC of posting, except that you keep the interest rate high…

  3. strand December 15, 2009 at 3:33 am

    Excellent reportage!

    I neglected to get pics in good light and only have a few pictures, but I’ll alert you to them once I get around to uploading ’em.

    1. admin December 15, 2009 at 6:18 am

      Did you have fun? 🙂

      1. strand December 15, 2009 at 6:24 am

        Yes! And made out with a couple of Santas. And got to bond with a new crew. Unfortunately, that crew only managed two bars on the official route. We did Cafe met, then skipped up to Broadway to Charlie’s for dinner, then to Santa’s house where a Santa dragged Santa onto the dance floor, cab to Shortie’s, agoraphobia for a few crewembers, and a dozen Santas piling into my apartment. And brunch at one-thirty the next day.

        1. admin December 15, 2009 at 6:43 am

          High-five for making out as Santa! If I had known that all it took to get people to make out for a while was dress like Santa, I would’ve done it sooner. XD

        2. xaotica December 16, 2009 at 6:19 am

          sorry I missed you & your hair!

          Next year I’ve resolved to begin drinking sooner.

          1. strand December 16, 2009 at 6:34 am

            I think I saw you stepping out of Linda’s the next day. I resolve to keep my Santas rallied.

  4. mschilepepper December 15, 2009 at 7:08 am

    The whole thing sounds like a scream! And now that you know how much fun it is, you have ample time to prep for next year. Finding a new belt, bedazzling the shit out of the costume, etc. etc.

    When you first showed the photo of the reindeer stuffie, I thought you were going to say you’d re-recorded his sound chip to say vulgar things, and I’m disappointed that was not the case. These will help you achieve that end. 😉

    Dang … I totally want to do this next year!

    1. admin December 15, 2009 at 5:04 pm

      Maybe next year I’ll bring a filthy-talking stuffed animal in addition to the flask, but portable booze was more important.

      You SHOULD do this next year, it’s so much fun!

      1. mschilepepper December 15, 2009 at 11:36 pm

        Oh, absolutely, the reinflask is genius, but how much MORE awesome would he be with embedded interactive auditory filth??

        Remind me sometime next fall, because I know I’ll want to do something weird and unusual, costume-wise.

        1. admin December 15, 2009 at 11:57 pm

          I am the LAST person in the world who should be mixing booze and electronics. “HO HO HO! MERRY *ZZZZZZZZZZZZAP*”

          1. mschilepepper December 16, 2009 at 6:09 am

            No guts, no glory, missy!

          2. admin December 16, 2009 at 6:34 am

            If you’re trying to kill me, I think it’s my duty to inform you that I don’t have any great insurance policy that’ll put you on easy street or anything like that.

          3. mschilepepper December 16, 2009 at 8:19 am

            Oh, FINE! I will fiddle with the dangerous electronics, JUST for you.

          4. admin December 16, 2009 at 3:49 pm

            Do YOU have a great insurance policy that will put me on easy street?

          5. mschilepepper December 16, 2009 at 10:08 pm

            No, but I’ll change my will just to bequeath to you my scab collection.

  5. beachin December 15, 2009 at 3:59 pm

    I’m going to leave my family, quit my life, and marry you. You are a GOD rising above lesser, unimportant and very boring gods. YOU are the ROCK in rock n roll. You are Amazon Woman! Leader of the free world!

    I’m not worthy! *low deep bow* I’m not worthy *low deep bow*

    1. admin December 15, 2009 at 5:06 pm

      Aww, shucks. You’re making me blush!

      The good news is that we can totally get civil-unioned in the state of Washington.

      1. beachin December 16, 2009 at 2:38 am

        Woo Hoo! Bonus!

  6. nonsequiturlass December 15, 2009 at 6:41 pm

    I love your posts so much. <3

    And this:

    Apparently, (and while I don’t doubt that it’s true, I wish that it wasn’t) I started snoringsnoozing (cuter word) loudly enough that Shannon’s dog, Sophie, thought I was challenging her, and she started growling at me intently while I slept on the couch.

    Tears. In. My. Eyes. That is awesome.

    1. admin December 15, 2009 at 6:53 pm

      Supposedly, the dog is also afraid of Santa; Shannon got a picture of her with Santa holding her paw and the dog plainly looks terrified. So the giant beard and the snoring was probably not a great combination in terms of getting the dog to like me. XD

  7. cordelia_rose December 16, 2009 at 9:34 am

    Man, all my town has is a zombie crawl in the middle of summer, and all those people are the ren faire douches I can’t stand anyway. *envy*

    1. admin December 16, 2009 at 3:51 pm

      I don’t blame you, I have run into some VERY annoying ren faire people. I don’t know what it is about that era that draws the douche factor, but it’s definitely present.

Comments are closed.