I love the holidays. Really. Peace on Earth, good will, yadda yadda. It's all goodness. It's all lurvly. (And, if you go to certain nameless uber-huge big box megastores, it's all Christmas -- nary a dreidle in sight. Whatev, as the kids say today.)
And it's also a huge pain in the toochas.
Take cards, for example. Now, I'm all about scaring up addresses and doing the card thing (yes, dead-tree cards instead of environmentally friendly e-cards) and spreading good cheer and damn the paper cuts and the looooooooong freaking lines at the post office. But will someone please tell me
what the hell is up with all the effing GLITTER? It's like someone chopped up this model's dress and purse, added tons more sparkly crap, sneezed, added even more sparkly crap, and then puked the silver stuff all over the damn cards. The worst part, of course, is that sparkly crap is all over the envelopes, the table, my hands, my Precious Little Tax Deduction's lunch for tomorrow...everything. Gah. Whoever invented the sparkly crap for holiday cards must be the same evil pervert who invented toys that make noise. Or fruitcake.
Speaking of toys, that's another joy of the season. Yes, toys are marvelous. Me love toys. But WHO THE HELL decided they should be impossible to remove from the packaging without a blowtorch, pliers, and some heartfelt curses? Come on, are the toy manufacturers really that worried that Someone With No Scruples is going to really swipe Barbie's ultravoguealicious hubcaps off her dream machine whatchamahoozitzmobile? Me, I think the manufacturers all bought stock in the company that makes those twisty tie thingies. It has to be a conspiracy. (Has to, I tell you.)
Let's not even get into the whole Wrapping The Gifts nightmare. I must be the only person who somehow can take a square package and wrap it enough so that it looks round. (You should see how I load the dishwasher. I give Loving Husband a case of the nerves.) Thank God for those spiffy gift bag things.
I do love the season. I swear.
But next year, I think I'll need a Cabin Boy to do all the carding, shopping and wrapping.
Oh, Loving Husband...?
8 Comments:
Dude, glitter rocks. Don't knock it. The more the merrier, I say.
--Richelle, who's being mistreated by Blogger
I hear you on the whole mess. We are specifically telling people/family "no toys". We're suggesting clothing, but then again we have girls and they like that.
Glitter is hell, and having girls who like glitter on everything it gets ugly fast. I just put in wood floors and it is amazingly difficult to get all the glitter off of them. At least it will all be over in a few weeks :)
ultravoguealicious
My new favourite word.
glitter is the devil
gift bags rock my world. sadly, my hubby seems to love wrapped gifts. in boxes. I think he does that to torture me.
Cabin-Boy-in-Training, here. I'm good for the immediate family cards and gifts. I can handle the wrapping. ('specially the song by the Waitresses.) I can even handle the glitter.
But I draw the line at the cards. Ten years ago, I said that if you want to do the cards, feel free. Me, I'm a phone call kind of guy.
You want me to do the cards next year? Harumph. Let's see how many I can pop out of a laser printer at a pop, shall we?
:-P
at my house, i sign the cards, hubby stuffs and licks the envelopes. I like watching him lick...dunno why *g*
Just a thought for a group project for the two of you for next year
hehehe
Glitter is lovely! It will make any package both more festive and messy! What could be better than that.
Now I wish I had stuffed the envelope full of glitter so that when you open it an explosion of festive cheer would spring forth covering you (and every flat surface) in lovely glitter.
Next time.
:)
Screw the glitter. I am here in defense of fruitcake.
I've heard all the jokes: There's only one fruitcake in the world, and it keeps getting regifted. A little-known theological fact is that there were actually FOUR wise men, but one was turned away for bringing fruitcake. But then, jokes really aren't necessary anymore--fruitcake comes with a build-in punchline.
Granted, I don't eat the stuff they sell in the supermarkets, but then, I don't eat Twinkies and Ho-hoes, either (and not just because I don't swing that way.) Good fruitcake is a study in excess, and as Mae West once observed, too much of a good thing can be wonderful.
I make my own, starting with a dozen or so types of excellent-quality dried fruit. Chop, add way too much brandy, cover and let the fruit soak up the booze for a day or so. Add chopped nuts and candied ginger, then mix in just enough rich, spicy, buttery cake batter to hold things together. Truly sinful, highly recommended, and definitely not a punchline.
ec, Fruitcake Advocate
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