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The Advent Calendar from Hell- Blogmas 20

Blogmas is starting to feel like the Advent Calendar from hell. I’ve been trying to write something everyday since December 1. I’ve been told by some wonderful bloggers I’ve met through this process of starting a blog that it’s okay to fail at Blogmas. But I’m stubborn. I want to do this. So here’s another fucking blogmas post, number 20.

I’ve been doing a lot of errands and running around trying to get things ready for Christmas and helping my grandfather-in-law write and send Christmas cards. He’s 91 and still knows so many people. TOO many people. After writing addresses on the envelopes of 44 cards, licking the seals (didn’t die like Susan from Seinfeld thankfully, but tasted yucky) and putting all the stamps on, it ended up being about 8 hours of work. As we went through my grandfather-in-law’s address book, I would say a name and he would debate whether they should get a card. And at 91, a lot of his friends had died, which is sad. Does it make me a bad person that for each friend who he said was dead, I wanted to do a dance of joy because it meant we could skip the whole greeting card part?

I also went with my bestie Sam (the Blog Broad) to do some shopping tonight and we saw this:

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Would love to know the story behind how these jeans got there. Ever see random pieces of clothing, especially undergarments, and wonder how the heck they got there? For anyone looking for a writing prompt, here it is. Be creative. How/why are these pants here? Why not put them IN the garbage if they didn’t want them? Why hang them on the side? Dang… we should have checked the pockets for money.

I finished some of the baskets I was working on and I thought I’d show you the finished product. Original article can be found by clicking HERE.

And finally, I saw a car today that I wish I had gotten a photo of. It was your typical SUV that is really just a sportier mini-van with the family stickers on the back [Eye Roll]. And on the roof of their truck, they had constructed a reindeer out of wire and souped it up with Christmas lights. I followed them with the intention of taking a photo but then couldn’t find my phone. Then I realized when I got home that it was in my pocket THE WHOLE TIME! Mother-humper!

But here are some other tacky things I saw.

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Stupid inflatable lighted Christmas lawn garbage. Very disturbing for young children in the day when Santa disintegrates or as in this picture, apparently Santa must have drank too much or fell off the roof. Maybe Frosty pushed him down. Another writing prompt! GO!
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Another stupid Christmas thing. Like I don’t have enough to decorate that I’m going to decorate my fucking car? Fuck you, corporations and greedy capitalists. You don’t steal enough of my money by selling me crap I don’t need? Now you’re going to get me to decorate my fucking car! I don’t even CLEAN my car! Fuckedy Fuck! FUCK!

That’s it for Blogmas 20. Happy 12/20 everyone. Why isn’t 12/20 a thing? Maybe we should make it a thing? 12/20? Jays? Anyone?

5 more posts.

 

 

Have yourself an awkward little Christmas! (Blogmas #1)

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Today I found out about a merry little blogging tradition known as “Blogmas.” So everyday up to Christmas you do a Christmas-y post, like how to make Christmas crap crafts, decorations, recipes and the like. I love Christmas! But, unfortunately, I’m not one of those “lifestyle” type bloggers, I’m not super-artistic, and I don’t really entertain or throw parties much. In fact, at most parties I have one of two strategies that I use to get through them.

  1. Get really drunk, lose all inhibitions and make a fool of myself.
  2. Stand in a corner and watch everyone else enjoying themselves. Try to make entertaining comments to those who try to socialize with me, end up saying something socially inappropriate, not purposely but because I’m just so awkward.

And both strategies end with what I recently learned is called an “Irish exit” by most other people. An “Irish Exit,” I learned, is sneaking out of a party without saying goodbye to anyone or thanking the host. Yep, you just bail. And no one misses you because there’s usually enough people there for you not to be missed. It sucks though when it’s a smaller party because then you can’t easily sneak out. I had always known the sneaking out move as the “Clairmont Shuffle” (coined by my hubby) because it’s how my dad gets out of parties. I learned from the best. Things is, generally if you try to leave a party, people try to convince you to stay. I’m not sure why. I personally know I add very little interest to parties and it’s more likely that I will spill red wine on your white carpet, furniture, outfit, or my own outfit. (Santa, please bring me a bib.) Or I may puke on your stuff if I get drunk enough. I’ve also been known to get head-wounds when I’m drinking because I fall a lot. So blood from my head is a real possibility if you invite me over for a party. Consider yourself warned.

I’m thinking the term “Irish exit” is probably a racial slur, or at the very least, a language-group slur, and this is a perfect example of one of the awkward things that may come out of my mouth without thinking of the implications. Or other times I over-think what I want to say and end up with verbal diarrhea trying to explain my way out of a hole. Ex. “I know I called you a stuck-up bitch but I didn’t mean to call you a bitch, what I meant is you’re so cute like a dog. And when I said stuck-up, I was talking about how you always stick up for people. I’m really sorry you think I called you a stuck-up bitch, but I meant it in absolutely the nicest way possible.” Anyway, my point is the only “lifestyle” advice I can give you is “how to be very awkward at holiday parties.”

So I racked my brain. What other fun Christmas-y thing could I write about? So here it is, my confession. I love really old Christmas decorations. The tackier, the better. If you come by to see my decorative work, what you’ll find is a lot of old decorations, most of which I uncovered in the “Lost and Never-Found Basement” (please refer to Hoarders: The Secrets that Hide Beneath and TRASH OR TREASURE in the Lost and Never-Found Basement- Enter my contest today!)

So here are some of the wonderful old decorations I found in the Lost and Never-Found Basement!

bulbs
All of the ornaments in the Lost and Never Found basement are old, old glass bulbs, many of which are likely antiques. They are gorgeous. Not like the plastic crap you get today. Or they are homemade crafts. These are the kind of ornaments I like.
tree
This tree says “Christmas” to me, not one of those fancy “theme” trees or color coated trees. That’s Christmas from a store. With its mix of homemade ornaments and handed down bulbs, this tree says Christmas from the heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Santa
Old Santa Ornament. Can’t figure out if he’s a Salvation Army Santa (he has the bell) or the real Santa because he has a sack and not a black bucket.

 

Snow man
This homemade Snowman is Da Bomb! He’s made out of a big glass jar with one of those round candle holders for the head. Painted with some sort of foamy snow like stuff, and a string of battery operated lights are stuffed in the bottom part of the jars. So you can lift up the head, and turn the lights on. Or I suppose you could make it into a cookie jar. Either way, I think it’s such a cute little Snowman.

 

houses
“The Little Houses!” I was so excited when I found these. My family had a set of these as well. They say 70s all over them! Growing up, my brother and I would fight over who got to put the houses up. In the end, my mom gave the houses to me when I moved out, because she thinks they’re too old and tacky to put up in her house. But I will always love, love, love the Little Houses! Christmas, to me, is about tradition.
porcelain tree
This is some sort of glass or porcelain green tree and although it looks like it has miniature lights, it is actually lit up by putting a very phallic light bulb up through the tree’s bottom. I remember always seeing other people with this tree. I always wanted one! And low and behold, a Christmas wish finally granted, in the bowels of the Lost and Found Basement.