"The only reason I've ever gotten out of bed was to get back in bed," confesses a dry-witted, sullen Marga Gomez at the start of her holiday solo show The Twelve Days of Cochina. The lesbian Latina comedienne is referring to her cochina-like ("piglike") addiction to sex -- a malady that she seeks to cure with an evening-long journey through the halls of shame, the overcrowded Christmas shopping lines, and the local Walgreens store (where the "Thong Song" pushes her to seduce the Ben & Jerry's freezer section). Gomez begins her sordid tale on a gift-buying spree, spending thousands in the hope that she'll finally get some action from her girlfriend. But her girl flakes out, and she's left with $80,000-plus in unopened presents, an unrealized dish of arroz con tofu, and an all-consuming need to get laid. With the guidance of her dead aunt from the old country, Gomez visits Christmases past (fondly remembering the toy horse she obsessively rode), present (denouncing her dirty ways to become a pioneer for the "cock block" abstinence-only initiative), and future (embracing a cardboard cutout of Angelina Jolie, the last hope for lust in a ravaged, sexless society). Gomez's deliciously bawdy humor finds an avenue through top-notch satire, dildo-based puppets, and vulgar renditions of "Winter Wonderland." At the core of her cunning spoof, however, is the frightening notion of a future America taken over by religious zealots and faith-based charities. Truth in jest? Let's hope not.