Welcome back to the basement yard. It is Monday, December 14th, uh,

two in the afternoon here in New York City. And it's beginning to lock.

Got a lot like Chris must just kidding.

It's fucking 60 degrees. I'm wearing shorts and a t-shirt and I was wearing shorts

and a t-shirt yesterday, all right.

Worlds all fucked up. Global warming's real. A bunch of people were tweeting me

all this stuff because I tweeted I was like, oh, it's 60 degrees. You know, you know,

what's going on? And people are like, oh, it's global warming. The polar bears are dying.

The polar bears are brown. I was like, shut up. My God. Stop it.

But anyway, uh, Christmas is 11 days away. And I haven't done a god damn thing as far as

Christmas shopping because I am garbage. Um, I don't know to get anyone because

anytime I ask anyone with the hell they want, they're like, oh, I don't, you know, it

doesn't matter. I just, uh, your friendship's all I need. I'm just like, fuck you,

dude, we're not friends anymore. Tell me what you want because I'm awful at getting

gifts for people. I'm off. I'm tremendous. I'm a hall of fame at getting gifts.

I can receive gifts very well, but I cannot give them. I can't, I don't know what to do.

I can't buy them. I don't know. I got a secret Santa with a bunch of my friends.

I don't know to get anyone. Uh, who knows? Maybe I don't, I don't, I really don't know.

Um, like a fleshlight or something, flesh lights. That's not a bad, I, actually, that's

not a bad idea at all. Let me just look up how much these costs, fleshlight, the number

one male masterbader in the world. There's a hundred and fifty dollars. Who the, who's

paying a hundred fifty dollars to beat their dick? Well, technically you're not beating it

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