Twas the Night Before Christmas - this version not suitable for lactose intolerants.
Twas the night before christmas and all through the house,
Two creatures were stirring - neither one with a spouse.
The baked brie split open as each sat in a chair
They had run out of crackers, but they didn’t care.
The girls each cut a wedge as they trundled to bed,
With visions of cheesy eggs dancing in each girl’s head.
As Liz took a bite and said, “what is this crap?”
Logan showed her the wrapper nestled in her cellulite lap.
For she hadn’t tasted and she asked, “what’s the matter?”
They saw the terror, “Baked Brie that won’t make you fatter!”
The plate and the cheese fell to the floor with a crash
The diet cheese they bought in error caused both to be rash
As each lady dropped their napkins and started to sob
Atop their roof they heard a hoof-weilding mob
For Santa and his sleigh had at long last arrived
With enough fatty cheese to keep both girls alive
So before you lay cookies out on Christmas night
Santa loves cheddar, so fucking do it right.
:::The Christmas Contenders:::
Fun fact: there is no wikipedia page for baked brie. Trust me, we looked for it. What cheese experts/fat people tell us is that a traditional baked brie consists of a) Brie, b) something sweet like raspberry jam, honey, or your mother after sex, and c) puff pastry. Sometimes its also stuffed with nuts - again this can apply to the baked brie or your mom.
If you’re from the South, you’re probably reading this on your cousin-husband’s lap and exclaiming, “I love that there cheeseball! Hot dang!”. If you are not from the South, let us paint a picture with our words: a cheeseball is a combination of cheddar cheese and cream cheese, with various spices and seasonings. The outside is kissed with a layer of chopped, salted pecans. Sometimes
fucking Paula Dean people add bacon or other meats.
Goat Cheese and Cranberry Log
This one is self-explanatory. Goat cheese. Cranberries. There. We still explained it even though it is self-explanatory. Merry Christmas.
Kill: Goat Cheese and Cranberry Log. First of all, I’m the only one that is allowed to be called, “Log” around these here parts. Secondly of all, as a child my mother used to make me jam and cream cheese sandwiches - and then crush medication in them. To this day a sweet cheese combo harkens back to those days of yore, when I would ingest a chalky pill and cheese sandwich and wonder why I was suddenly so sleepy.
Fuck: Cheeseball. Apparently cheeseball is not one word. Apparently cheeseballs are the opposite of classy, inviting ridicule from food connoisseurs and friends alike. I say, to hell with convention! I love cheddar, I love nuts, I love creamy smooth cheddarnuts collecting in the corners of my
cheese hole mouth. However, I can’t elope with the cheeseball, as there’s something hotter waiting for me on the horizon.
Marry: Bake Brie. First, let me rebut (yes that’s a word) all the h8ers out there who are screaming, “YOU SAID YOU HATED SWEET CHEESE YOU LYING, FLIPFLOPPING WHORE!”. I hate sweet, creamy cheese. Not hot, melted, just out of the oven with a collection of near-boiling jam nestled in a pastry-condom cheese. If I’m ever at a white house correspondence dinner, or the Playboy Mansion, or any other place that is likely to have a fancy baked cheese appetizer to entice it’s guests, you better believe I’m gonna shove that wheel in my purse to eat with my hands on the drive home.
Kill: Cheeseball. Okay, so I’ve never actually eaten a cheeseball before, and I know I should give it a chance. But I feel quite strongly that a soft cheddar would not agree with my personal cheese values. Namely that cheddar, should never be soft. NEVER! Cheddar offers an intense, tangy flavor, which, if consumed in a mushy, room temperature ball, would require me to try my hand (or longest middle finger) at bulimia. The deceiving crumbly nut covering is just a disguise for the lactose poison beneath. THE CHEESEBALL MUST DIE.
Fuck: Goat Cheese and Cranberry Log. Fruit and cheese combine to form the most perfect union, an immaculate balance between the pungent flavor of the goat and the sweet, yet tart bite of the cranberry. HOWEVER, most couples (at least in my hometown of big titays, brain-dead actors and (fake) blondes) do not last forever no matter how sweet the sex is. So, in order to allow space for the real winner of the holiday cheese throne, the Goat Cheese and Cranberry Log will be put in its rightful place, jammed into my…
mouth, straight up, no vehicles (crackers, bread, etc.) necessary. (and EW GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE CHEESE GUTTER!)
Marry: Baked Brie. Dearest Logania and I agree to come together for this holiday season in our love of baked brie. Brie is king. Always. Adding a deliciously, just-sweet-enough fruity jam, and a flaky crust can only raise its status to god. Let Baked Brie reign over its inferiors, and like Zeus, fuck a whole lotta bitches! (while still staying “happily” married to Hera).
MERRY CHRISTMAS, CHEESE EATERS!