Seasonal songs that never need to be played again

In no particular order. Does not include novelty songs, just the standard playlist.

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

My mother is a whore for presents and my father is clueless. And somehow that’s funny.

The Little Drummer Boy

Nobody likes drum solos, kid. Especially not parents of an infant. Get lost in a hurry. Also, see somebody about those animal hallucinations.

Feliz Navidad

I want to wish you a merry funeral pyre lit by the sheet music of your mindless, repetitive, pointless crap. Oh god not another repeat, seriously?

Little Saint Nick

“Christmas comes this time each year” — oh, is that it? Really? It’s been hitting me by surprise for decades — could this truly be the secret? Oh my goodness. It’s so clear now.

The Twelve Days of Christmas

The seasonal version of “99 Bottles of Beer.” Start with verse 12 and get it over with.

It’s Beginning To Look a Lot Like Christmas

“Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again.” Well, maybe in the severely dysfunctional family you grew up in, but I happen to love and enjoy my children and wish them close.

Away In a Manger

“No crying he makes.” As a child, I felt that this set an unreasonable standard. My resentment lingers to this day.

— Frenulum

Panties du Jour

Every morning, after her shower, still naked, she waits for me to choose a pair of panties for her. Her collection is large and diverse, so it often takes a while to decide.

Lace, silk, or cotton? Pattern or solid? Playfully little-girlish or provocatively sensual? Brief or bikini or cheekies or boy-shorts or thong? Some days, my choice reflects my mood. On others, it might just be a question of variety — we haven’t had these in a while.

I fit her panties into place, with her help; inevitably this leads to familiar signs of her arousal. We head downstairs to the kitchen, where the first thing I do is switch on the elixir-of-life machine and select a K-cup.

The coffee brews and my cup fills. As soon as it’s ready I take the first invigorating sip. I am no good to anyone, and thoroughly antisocial, until the first cup is down. I need to be left to myself in peace and perfect quiet.

I take the last sip, and pull the soggy panties from her mouth.

“Good morning, my love!”

—Frenulum