Santa, NO!

no sudden movements or you’ll scare this delectable little cake jewel away.

Santas, why don’t you pedal your asses back to Brooklyn or Portland and leave this to the adults.

MONDAY, Santa! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

Nightmare juice.

santa, NO!

go time, go time, fuckity-fucking go time

In the Parson’s final, apocalyptic, vision, everyone is married to everyone else, and everyone dies in a field of snow.

It’s go time, nicky-boy.

Looking good, Santas.

Don’t be a bougie jerk, Sally.

Santa, NO!

Every year the Action 5 News Team asked Santa for the same thing: no female anchors.

Holidays with the family are great until Uncle Krampus knocks back a few.

Sassybritches, NO!