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Yeah, You Better Watch Out.

December 15, 2005

Well, Christmas is upon us. And it landed slap across my face.

It has been an interesting few days, marked by highs (in the form of good times with friends) and by lows (in the form of running into YET ANOTHER COLUMN in the goddamn PARKING garage OH MY GOD). And as you can probably tell, quite a bit has happened.

I'm trying to decide where to start, and how to distill these events into a cohesive narrat...oh! I KNOW. The TREE. Oh, let's talk about the fucking Christmas tree. Because the Christmas Tree Evening -- that's pretty much all you need to know to understand how this week has been. It is a metaphor.

So, get comfortable, people. This particular event only occurred last night, and I am already proving very adept at turning it into an epic tale lasting a minimum of twenty minutes, and involving fighting robots. (I recently decided that all good stories must include, at some juncture, fighting robots.) I have turned what should have been a short story into a whole damn miniseries.

What I am trying to say is: We may all be here a whiiiiiiiiiiiiiile. But this is what happened with the Christmas Tree.

It started a week and a half ago, when Dukay purchased our Christmas tree. We brought it home, stood it in the corner, and cut open its little plastic, orange straitjacket. Dukay walked in serious circles around it and, after a few minutes of serious! contemplation!, ultimately concluded that the limbs hadn't fallen yet. So he declared: we would wait to decorate it. We would do it the next day.

Well. Naturally, this was stupid. And so, for the past week and a half, Dukay and I have been trying to find an opportunity to decorate the damn Christmas tree. And, for the past week and a half, the tree has stood, naked and embarrassed, in the corner. Where it stares at us, sheds, and taunts 25% of the dogs. The 25% that is Gimmme.

gimmmesofa.JPG
(Gimmme TIRED OF HATE TREE. Gimmme NAP.)

The other 75% of the dogs could care less about a Christmas tree in the corner, but poor Gimmme, who honestly does not have the sense that God gave ranch dressing, hates it. He hates it SO MUCH. Granted, he cannot actually see the tree (because Gimmme = blind dog), but he senses it, and whenever he gets to that side of the room, he just wanders around randomly, barking in its general direction. Bark? he says. Ba? Rk?

I understand him completely. This means:

GIMMME HATE TREE. TREE GO BACK OUTSIDE NOW. TREE NOT LIVE IN DEN. GIMMME LIVE IN DEN, STUPID TREE.

The tree has not responded. We are in a stalemate!

As a result of all of this excitement, if you come over, you will see Gimmme waddling through the den, gazing in...sort of a tree-ish direction, and barking at random intervals at this woodsy interloper. While the other dogs look at him sympathetically, all, "Oh. Isn't it sad that he is an idiot?"

So anyway. The tree has not had a good year so far.

And Dukay and I have been trying to find an opportunity to decorate the tree, even going so far as to retrieve the ornaments from the attic, but then there was just all this other shit that had to be done. We had a holiday dinner thing, and then we had another holiday dinner thing, and then to mix it up, we had ANOTHER holiday dinner thing, and then Dukay had to work late one night, and then I had to work late one night, and finally I just threw up my hands and declared to the world at large THAT WE ARE DECORATING THE GODDAMN CHRISTMAS TREE ON TUESDAY, IF YOU'RE COMING FINE, IF NOT I AM GOING TO THROW SOME GLITTER ON THIS THING AND CALL IT A DAY.

Fortunately, Dukay came. Unfortunately, it was not...uneventful.

And actually, now that I think about it, the whole thing actually started before Dukay ever showed up. And furthermore, y'all, it seemed to start so well.

Tuesday, 6:00: I walked in the door from an unusually dramatic day of work (including depositions! Oooo! Legal!), to find that my house was dramatically cleaner than it had been when I left that morning. And the fact that the house was dramatically cleaner had nothing to do with my own efforts, or even with gnomes; it was because Tuesday is the day that my awesome, very hot housecleaners come, and they clean and shine and mop, and do other things that I really, REALLY hate to do, and they leave my house looking like a commercial for Mr. Clean.

This makes me a spoiled brat. It also makes me the only person who totally loves Tuesdays. Love you, Tuesday!

But it is not all rainbows and sprinkles. Because I am Crazy. See, I am just...not really comfortable with people cleaning up after me, and I am totally territorial about things like dirty clothes. I'm embarrassed if I think the house is too messy, and I'm embarrassed if I get home and discover that the husband part of the couple (who is, incidentally, totally gorgeous, which helps matters not at all) has spent a fun day scraping year-old dust off of my ceiling fans, because...you're supposed to do that? Really? WHY WASN'T I INFORMED?

It drives me crazy. I realize I should get over myself, but I can't help it. It all makes me feel like a failure. I feel like I am failing Homeownership! And soon they will TAKE THE HOUSE AWAY. BECAUSE I DO NOT DUST MY CEILING FANS.

And so, to ADD to the general sense of Crazy that is already occupying my house and mind, I insist on...cleaning. Before the cleaners get there. And I justify this by thinking that no gorgeous man will EVER see a dirty toilet at my house, no matter WHAT I am paying him. I would die of shame. My mother would die of shame. WE WOULD ALL DIE OF SHAME, AND Y'ALL DON'T WANT THAT AT CHRISTMAS, AND SO I HAVE TO CLEAN.

On Monday nights, I always spend at least an hour wandering around, scrubbing toilets and hanging up clothes and putting crap away. However, while I freely admit that the first two tasks are because of the Crazy, the last actually makes some degree of sense.

See, "putting crap away" is a separate thing altogether. Because, if you leave things out, the very hot housecleaners will put them up for you, but there is not a lot of...method, I suppose, in where those things will be placed. The guiding principle behind "putting things away" is "putting them in whatever cabinet/drawer/container is closest, or possibly farthest away, or possibly we toss a coin." I am actually not kidding.

There is no method to this madness. In the past two years, I have accidentally discovered the following items in the following places:

(1) Three pairs of shoes stacked neatly behind the bookshelf;
(2) A portable phone inside a cereal box in the pantry;
(3) The garage door opener in the silverware drawer; and
(4) All of my soup bowls in a bathroom cabinet.

Now. This is like performance art to me. I think the very hot housecleaners are troubled geniuses, and I find it thoroughly fascinating, and it is fun to have a scavenger hunt in your own home. But if you have something you don't want hidden in the crawl space, then it is something to BEAR IN MIND the night before they come.

And so, I bore that in mind on Monday, and that is why I gathered up all of my suits. They'd been tossed onto a bed, waiting to go to the dry cleaners; I didn't want them to end up (a) in the freezer, or (b) buried in the yard, so I threw them into a (c) hamper, tossed the hamper into my closet, and figured all was well.

And then I got home last night.

The house looked awesome, and the very hot housecleaners had left me a thank you note for their Christmas present. And I could tell that they had clearly gone to some extra trouble; they'd even swept the back porch, and I could hear laundry going in the laundry room. THAT IS SO NICE, I was thinking. I love those very hot people!

And I was even more pleased when I went upstairs, and discovered that they had ALSO been so kind as to go through my closet, arranging clothes and hanging things, taking all of the laundry downstairs, and lining up my shoes with a military precision. Damn! I thought. They are so awesome! I am going to call them right now to give them an extra thank you. And then I thought: I wonder where my suits are?

And so I went back downstairs and into the laundry room, where I found the following:

(1) Six wine glasses stacked on the washing machine;
(2) My cell phone charger hung neatly on a coat hanger; and
(3) All of my suits. In the dryer. Drying. Hello.

They had washed my suits. They washed all of my suits. In the washing machine. And then they dried them.

Yes.

And, you know, I'm not even mad, because I know they were just trying to do something nice for me, and it's my own damn fault for leaving all of the suits in the damn hamper. (They do wash the clothes in the hamper sometimes, and I should have remembered that, so really, it's on me.) So I called them and thanked them, and the female half of the very hot couple was like, "Merry Christmas! We're very hot, and also, we're so glad you're pleased!" And I just looked at all of my suits, all of which would now fit your average toddler, and assured her that, yes. I'm pleased. I'm going to be naked at work for the next week, but I am, indeed, strangely pleased. And I can't WAIT to see what they've put in the freezer.

And that was the beginning of the evening.

So, I got off the phone, and stood there, realizing that all of my suits were ruined, but that the house was very clean, and these facts collided in my brain in such a way that the only conscious thought I could manage was: well, I am not cooking dinner toNIGHT. We are ordering OUT.

7:00: Dukay showed up, and we each poured a glass of wine, and called the cheap Chinese restaurant around the corner to order some dinner. While we waited for the delivery, Dukay put on some holiday music and started a fire in the fireplace, and all of us were feeling pretty warm, and cozy, and accepting of the fact that one of us has no more work clothes, by the time the food arrived.

The doorbell rang and the four dogs responded by experiencing a total of seven aneurysms while I took some plates from the cabinet, and we sat down in front of the tree, studying it intensely ("we need to plan our attack," explained Dukay, who views decorating a Christmas tree as a military operation, happy birthday, Jesus!). Dukay opened the little boxes of food, and I had my forkfull of rice about halfway to my mouth when suddenly, he let out an anguished cry.

"AHHHHHHHHH," said Dukay.

"AHHHHHHHHH," said myself, dropping my fork immediately onto the ground and looking hysterically for the roach I AM SO SURE he just found in his lo mein, but instead, Dukay was pointing at a piece of chicken, glistening in delicious brown sauce, and sporting something both foreign and...shiny.

It was a staple. There was a staple in his chicken.

staple.JPG
(See? So shiny, and yet, SO WRONG.)

"There is a staple in my chicken," said Dukay. This phrase would be repeated many more times over the course of the evening.

An emergency staple-ectomy was promptly performed.

staple2.JPG

But this did not make Dukay feel any better.

So, he called the restaurant and told them: "There is a staple in my chicken."

The restaurant did not believe him.

He tried again. "No, really," he said. "There is a staple. In my chicken."

To which, the restaurant then presented Dukay with its own theory of the case, namely that Dukay had planted the staple in the chicken himself. (As you do.) The restaurant also refused to issue a refund, and informed Dukay that he would have to prove the existence of said staple by bringing the full meal, staple and all, back to the restaurant, and showing it to the manager.

Dukay was perplexed. "But!" he tried. "STAPLE! CHICKEN! IN! MINE!"

And that is when they hung up on him.

Coziness and cheer and warm feelings about the season pretty much...well, they died a violent death at this point, as a raging and cursing Dukay snatched his coat and shoes, tossed the chicken and offending staple into the bag, and stormed out of the house.

8:00: I drank another glass of wine. And, being bored, began taking pictures of stationary objects.

table.JPG
(Like, for example. The table. There's a whole series!)

Fortunately, Dukay returned twenty minutes later, clutching his refund in one hand, and a bag of Chik-Fil-A in the other.

"I AM READY TO BE FESTIVE NOW," he hollered.

"I am going to get you some more wine now," I told him.

Fortunately, after Dukay finished Dinner, Version 2.0 ("now without staples!"), and downed a glass and a half of chardonnay, his mood improved dramatically, and he declared himself ready to start stringing the Christmas lights on the tree.

Which would have been fine, except for the fact that...well. Y'all know! They're Christmas lights! And Christmas lights exist on this earth to serve two purposes, and two purposes only, those being:

(1) to illuminate your tree; and
(2) to spend the rest of the year participating in a sweaty, secret light bulb orgy that causes each strand to become so irrevocably intertwined that upon being opened, they resemble not so much individual cords, but rather one enormous, box-shaped brick of wire, bulb, and bits of last year's tree, MERRY CHRISTMAS, FUCK YOU.

"Hmm," I said, opening the box. "It is a little tangled."

Dukay peeked over my shoulder.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH" he said, for the second time that evening.

I settled myself down on the ground, pulling the child-sized mass of lights and cords into my lap, and began the untangling process. Sighing resignedly, Dukay sat down next to me.

8:05 - 11:00: We untangled. And we untangled. AND WE UNTANGLED. Dukay was thrilled.

When the final knot was unkinked, and the final cord untied, Dukay stood and gazed at the strands of lights strewn across the den.

"Do we get breaks?" he asked.

"NO." I told him. "THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE MERRY. WE DO NOT TAKE BREAKS. YOU DRINK MORE WINE."

And that is when I got my brilliant idea.

"Dukay!" I said. "Know what we should do?"

He looked at me hopefully. "Take a break?" he asked.

"NO. We should choose an ornament. And it will be the first one we put on the tree, and it will be the LAST one we take off the tree, and we'll do it every year."

"Okay," he said.

"And it shall be this ornament," I continued, picking up a plastic box. "This ornament, that is shaped like the Bumble from the furry-claymation television version of Rudolph, where the girl reindeer has the long eyelashes and I think a little bow and Rudolph's dad is a TOTAL ASSHOLE."

BUMBLE.JPG
(Don't you know about Bumbles? Bumbles bounce!)

"Okay," he said.

"And we shall always hang the Bumble first, and we shall always put away the Bumble last, and even if I die and you have to go find a new woman to fulfill your manly needs, you shall take this ornament with you and you shall, for the rest of your life, observe the rules I have created here tonight, Amen."

Dukay looked at me like I had lost my mind.

"JESUS GOD CHRIST," he said. "IT IS A BUMBLE ORNAMENT. YOU KIND OF NEED TO CALM DOWN."

And, you know. Maybe he was right. But that doesn't make me wrong. Because, people? THIS IS HOW TRADITIONS BEGIN. Yes. I have figured it out.

It starts with someone who finds a staple in his chicken, and then leaves his girlfriend, who has no work clothes, at home with unrestricted access to the wine, and then she comes up with what can best be described as a random, illogical, and totally inconvenient system for performing a holiday task. This task is repeated, out of a misplaced sense of irony and "humor" for several years, until all of a sudden it has become this Whole Thing, and the Bumble ornament takes on heirloom quality significance, and my grandchildren will BATTLE over this ornament, people, like there will be name-calling and hair-pulling, but then the whole thing will prove to be for naught when some poor great-great-grandchild drops The Esteemed Mister Bumble and it shatters into forty thousand heirloom pieces, and his mother will sob and the child will have to seek THERAPY, because WAY TO RUIN CHRISTMAS, JUNIOR, and YES. THAT IS HOW TRADITION IS BORN.

Seriously. Why not start one today? Generations of guilt can be yours for just $4.99! From Target!

AND SO! I hung my Bumble with pride. And then we decorated the rest of the poor, poor Christmas tree.

decorate.JPG
Do you like our red 'n green Christmas boxes? Do you like that we coordinate our storage with the season? Do you know why I am dressed like it is July? Do you know why I am wearing a headband? Do you have any wine? Will you give me some?

decorate3.JPG
Okay, seriously now, we have to return to the matter of the headband. It is cracking me up. I love the thing, which I purchased at that craft fair ('member that?), but could I look like more of an idiot? No. I really could not. I look like I'm about to lead a group of overprivileged girl scouts into the wilds of a Holiday Inn somewhere. I look like I'm a fake little hippie chick trying to impress my new boyfriend who TOTALLY LOVES Widespread Panic. I look like I'm California dreamin'! On such a winter's day! IN SHORT, I LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT.

(Not that I am not wearing it...right now. And not that I intend to take it off. Shh.)

And so, after many full minutes of decorating, and wandering around the den APPARENTLY LOOKING LIKE AN IDIOT, and someone saying, "What? I'm HELPing by taking PICtures," we finally stood back, and admired the finished product.

tree.JPG
(Tree is all dressed now! Yay, no-longer-naked-tree! We are happy things worked out for you in the end.)

And after all that excitement and drama, it looked pretty damn good. And Dukay and I smiled, and wished each other a merry Christmas, and toasted to our accomplishment. Then we sat back on the sofa, forgetting about ruined suits and staples in chicken, barking Gimmmes and heirloom Bumbles, and for just a little while, we enjoyed the season in silence.

Until the fighting robots showed up.

And really, FOUR HUNDRED PAGES LATER: that's how we've been. Running around, worried about little things, trying to make everything perfect, and freaking out in the process. But it all keeps on working out in the end. It's so...Christmas!

Happy holidays, everyone; two days until I am an elf. So I imagine I'll speak with you again very soon. And I promise to leave out the fighting robots.

Posted by doxie in General Whining | permalink

59 Comments

OMG You got the Bumble ornament at Target you say? I so need one of those for my son! Two years ago he picked the sweetest but most ditzy girl cat to adopt from the pound, and named her Bumble. LOL He didn't even know that Bumbles bounce at that time.

Glad to see you and Dukay made it through the tree trimming and the chicken ala staple with all your toes intact! So sorry about your suits, but seething with jealousy that you have housecleaners at all - and hot ones to boot! But no pictures of Dukay in embroidered pants? Maybe next time... :)

Posted by: Ivie | December 15, 2005 03:51 AM

Aw, you poor thing. At least now you have a legit excuse to go shopping for new suits...new FABULOUS suits of course.

ps. more dog pictures please!

Posted by: Maya | December 15, 2005 03:57 AM

Doxie, GREAT entry. *frets* now I want to decorate a christmas tree with my man!

But? The suit thing. ooohhhhh man, that would drive me crrrazy. I am proud of you for getting over it. That's a bitter pill to swallow!

Posted by: for Joke! | December 15, 2005 06:19 AM

Sux about the suits - a decent new closet full of suits can run a grand, easy. Oh well, what else is MasterCard for? P.S. Deduct them as a business expense on your taxes. Really! You can do that! I'm pretty sure.

Posted by: Susan D. | December 15, 2005 06:38 AM

"Woodsy interloper" cracked me up. That's a really great story.

Posted by: Callie | December 15, 2005 07:14 AM

Once my dad brought this pickle ornament home from work -- someone had given it to him there, and seriously it was supposed to be a pickle, it was all green and shiny and pickle-shaped. And the person who had given it to my dad at work told him that it was supposed to be a tradition that he should HIDE the pickle in the Christmas tree and get his children to look for it. And whoever won, WON THE PICKLE! And so we did that for four or five years, my dad hiding the pickle and me and my brothers and sister looking for it -- uh, and we weren't little by the way, we were, like, teeangers -- and then one year WE LOST THE PICKLE! And there was MUCH WAILING! And then a few months later we found it (probably in the freezer or something), and we decided that our NEW tradition would be to hang it from the rear view mirror of my car, which was a dark green shiny VW Golf and had the license plate PKL. So it too was sort of like a pickle.

So! You are right! THIS is how traditions get started! PEOPLE MAKE THEM UP!

Posted by: Nothing But Bonfires | December 15, 2005 08:30 AM

Once I found a penny in a baked potato that I had bought from some kind of baked potato store, and when I took it back and demanded my money back they told me a) that I had probably put the penny in there myself and b) they would only give me half a refund anyway because I had eaten half the potato already. Maybe restaurants have a lot of experiences with people who hide metal in their food in an attempt to get their $6 back?

Posted by: Erin | December 15, 2005 09:16 AM

Way to go on the holiday cheer. I have a friend who has a tree trimming party every year and the first year it was just about 4 of us and we were all so hungover that no one wanted to participate at all. Until my friend started to decorate her tree BEFORE she put the lights on. Well, this was unacceptable and enough to get us off our asses to take control of this situation...now the party has become a holiday staple (sorry!) and gotten much bigger. However, the final tree decoration is the tree topper. A hideous angel that I swear will come and attack you in your sleep. For real. I can't even look at the thing. I wish I had a picture so you could see it's true hideousness.

PS. Doug would be so disappointed about the ceiling fans, but then again, I don't think he or any of the other designers have ever lived in the south.

Posted by: Morgan | December 15, 2005 09:53 AM

well, the shrinkage of the suits does suck, but at least with the elf costume you'll have something to wear that day :)

beautiful tree!!!

Posted by: liz | December 15, 2005 09:58 AM

Also--I just found this to fit in with the robot theme:

http://www.littlelostrobot.com/2005/11/humps.html

Posted by: Morgan | December 15, 2005 10:00 AM

I really have to quit reading your blog at work - all my coworkers are wondering why I'm sitting here laughing hysterically.

Posted by: Bitka | December 15, 2005 10:00 AM

Are the suits small enough to fit on the dogs? Oh please put them on them anyways and take pictures! PLLLEEEEEEEEEASE! Don't forget a sweet pair of stacked heels for Gimmme!

And don't forget photos of you dressed like an elf. And before anyone freaks out, NO I'm not some kind of elfy-fetishy freak. I'm just CURIOUS.

Posted by: Emily | December 15, 2005 10:18 AM

LOL... miss doxie, you crack me up!

poor gimmme - has he stopped barking now that the tree's all decorated and has purpose? has dukay survived all his takeout? (serves him right for not writing the story!) have you shopped shopped shopped to replace the suits? (really - i hear you on the 'oh, it was so nice of you to, uh, ruin my clothes by so thoughtfully putting them in the dryer'...)

and how much do i love my own fabulous cleaner guy? he finds dust i didn't know existed!

Posted by: Ali G | December 15, 2005 10:21 AM

Hi, I'm new to your blog and I LOVE it. Such laughing over Gimmme's fight with the tree! Such crying over ruined suits! Such reading, and reading, and reading, and... ahem.

I'm guessing Dukay was feeling the effects of the wine when he took those pics of you -- a little fuzzy so it's hard to appreciate the beauty of the headband.

Posted by: Nancy | December 15, 2005 10:35 AM

If it's any consolation, I think both Ann Taylor and Banana Republic have suits on sale right now. That really sucks. :-( (And I would not have been as nice as you to the hot housecleaners. Who WASHES suits??)

Meanwhile, Chick-Fil-A? The most awesome thing ever. Totally would have gone for Chick-Fil-A over the staple-in-the-chicken Chinese food anyway. A number one combo for me, please. :-)

Merry Ho Ho to you!

Posted by: Peyton | December 15, 2005 10:45 AM

Like Bitka, I have to stop reading your blog at the office. People wonder why I'm convulsing in my chair, holding my sides, and losing coffee out my nose. It hurts, I tell ya. Hard to look like I'm actually working when I have tears squinting out of my eyes and a grimace that is trying not to laugh.
And you are right about How Traditions Get Started...so, so very right. Thanks! and happy holidays!

Posted by: DurtGrrl | December 15, 2005 10:59 AM

I think all you need to do, probably, is to start wearing the elf suit a few days early. Then you'll have plenty of time to go out and buy some fabulously stylish new professional attire, and plenty of time to have it tailored to fit (because who buys off the rack? ridiculous). Also, if the firm gets used to you in the elf suit I imagine the mocking laughter and sarcastic jabs will decrease quickly, and you'll just be "that lawyer in the elf costume"

it's win-win.

Posted by: Tom | December 15, 2005 11:33 AM

I have also found a staple in my chinese chicken before.

Posted by: jonester | December 15, 2005 11:40 AM

Staples and suits and Bumbles, oh my!

Heee-larious as always, Doxie. I wouldn't expect anything less.

(psst: W.Panic's members are friends of mine, so watch it, buster!)

(just kidding. But they are friends of mine. No watching it needed.)

Posted by: missbanshee | December 15, 2005 12:20 PM

1. Okay, so...you know how when you've never heard of something before and you're first exposed to it, you then start seeing it everywhere? Yeah. My sister just told me about the Bumbles the other day, and now here they are in your post. If the Universe could go ahead and quit stalking me, that would be greaaaaaat.

2. My father-in-law has a handy trick for those pesky Christmas lights. When you take them off the tree, wind them around a cardboard tube (like the kind used for wrapping paper -- or you can fashion one out of some newspaper). They'll stay neat and untangled until you're ready to use them the next year. Plus, it's cheap!

3. I have the same red-and-green storage boxes from Target. We use them to store our Christmas ornaments.

4. Have a merry Christmas and fewer dismembered toes in '06!

Posted by: Sister Rae | December 15, 2005 12:32 PM

If you leave off the fighting roberts, I will come to your house and steal Gimmie!

Posted by: lisame | December 15, 2005 12:34 PM

Heeeeee. Fighting roberts! Bobs and Robbies, battling it to the death, everywhere!

Y'all crack me up.

And, Miss Banshee, we will NEVER EVER mention that you know actual WSP members to Dukay. Dukay loves them with unrestrained passion. It's just not right.

Posted by: Miss Doxie | December 15, 2005 12:38 PM

Are those condoms on your table? Holiday condoms?

Am I imagining things? Am I drunk? or high?

Posted by: joaaanna | December 15, 2005 12:51 PM

My God, woman! Will you get out of my head, please? Because our cleaning people also come on Tuesday, and they are not hot -- they are Polish, and we refer to them as the Polacks, which is fine to do because I am Polish myself -- but the Polacks, like the Mexicans before them, also put all our belongings away in illogical places. A couple of months ago I found my DKNY sunglasses, missing for many months, in the cabinet in the kitchen island behind pots and pans.

We have Rudolph ornaments from Target, too. (Doesn't Herbie, that dentist elf, set off your gaydar? We think he's a TOTAL FRUIT.) And the Christmasy plastic storage tubs, too. And orange and black ones for Halloween! Because Target ROCKS. Target is going to take over the world, and I don't even care.

Posted by: Gretchen | December 15, 2005 12:53 PM

Your tree is lovely. I helped a friend of mine decorate his tree, but all he really has is the bulbs I bought him, some tinsel, and a small snowman with his name on it that he bought at the Dollar Store. It still looks kinda naked.

Posted by: Heather | December 15, 2005 12:54 PM

Oh, y'all, why I am spending all day commenting on my own site? I'm such a nerd.

But I have to stand up for my Honor, because THOSE ARE NOT CONDOMS, silly gooses (geese?), they are packages of ornament hangers. And I really don't know why that picture is so dark, either. It used to be lighter. It is all mysterious, like the Bermuda Triangle.

Posted by: Miss Doxie | December 15, 2005 01:09 PM

OMG I just read on Yahoo! That 300,000 people are w/o power in Hotlanta because of Ice Storm 2005! Have you plenty-o-wine, hot guys and blankies? I certainly hope so!

Posted by: Mandy | December 15, 2005 01:10 PM

My 4-year-old happens to have an interview at Morgan Stanley next week, so if you could pop those suits in the mail....

And you look very cute as a hippie Girl Scout.

Merry Merry!

Posted by: jozet | December 15, 2005 01:11 PM

You're tree is SO PRETTY and I totally just spat Hot Pocket out my nose. Merry Christmas Doxie and Dukay (and doggies)!

Posted by: holley | December 15, 2005 02:08 PM

Oh God, I'm wearing a headband too. I'm taking it off right NOW. Yours looks cute, though.

Why do you have so many stockings on your mantel? Do the dogs get some?


Posted by: Sedulia | December 15, 2005 02:14 PM

There are people here without power? When was the ice storm? If there was an ice storm in Atlanta would someone please explain to me why I am at work?!?

Jon and I still as in STILL have not done my tree. He is actually looking forward to it. I was, about 4 weeks ago. Now I wish I had not drank all the Tree Decorating Wine.

Posted by: Robyn | December 15, 2005 02:36 PM

As I was reading your post while guffawing at my desk (and getting weird looks from my co-workers) I recalled similar issues I had with my Christmas tree lights. Instead of tangles, I had massive problems with finding a whole strand that would stay lit. So I feel your pain. I believe Christmas lights were invented as a form of torture for poor, innocent people who JUST WANT TO CELEBRATE THE DAMN HOLIDAY WITH SOME SPARKLE.

Good luck with the suits, too...man, that stinks. :(

Posted by: Kathleen | December 15, 2005 03:01 PM

Your tree looks great! It is very uncrooked, unlike mine.

As soon as you said you put those suits in the hamper, I knew trouble was brewing.

Posted by: Hannah Beth | December 15, 2005 03:14 PM

I, too, celebrate the Tuesday Scrubbing with great glee! The door opens and I am hit in the face the scent of cleaning products (which immediately make me cough) -- ahhh... Tuesday.

This? Was the best 27 minutes of reading I've done in a long time. Many thanks and give Gimme a kiss for me! ;)

Posted by: Pammer | December 15, 2005 03:24 PM

You should ask Coke for an endosrement deal. Look at how strategically that thing's placed behind the tree!!!

Thanks for providing much needed break time from the PAPER OF SUPER LENGTH AND AWESOME CRAPPINESS.

Posted by: Kate | December 15, 2005 03:28 PM

Ok. I am going to give you a secret trick to having not tangled lights for next year at the risk of having you miss out on THE JOY! Because you know? Tangled lights are so much fun.
Take a small section of newspaper and roll it up like you are going to beat the next person who dares mention staples in front of Dukay. When you take off your lights, roll them onto the newspaper. Next year, roll them as you put them up.

Posted by: Mrs X | December 15, 2005 03:30 PM

my friend just sent me a link to your blog and my four month old baby looked at me like i'd grown a second head because i was laughing so hard reading it. seriously. tears running down my cheeks.

thanks for brightening my day!

Posted by: hearmysong | December 15, 2005 03:50 PM

Oh...my...goodness!!! As in one of the previous comments made, I was raised with the pickle tradition, but it was in helping my godmother put up her Christmas tree that it came about...only changed a bit. So instead of being the child who found the pickle on Christmas morning to be the one who received an extra gift (because we didn't celebrate Christmas at her house), the child who put the pickle on the tree when it was decorated got an extra gift (and shocker, it was always my gift because I was the one who helped...woohoo)!!!!

Your tree is beautiful!

Are you sure the staple didn't come off the bag where they staple the receipt to the bag or maybe off of one of the containers that they stapled closed for some reason :-). I'm proud of Dukay for making them give him a refund. Rock on!

You are hysterical...can't wait for the tales of being an elf for a day. Make sure it's not an office prank first.

Posted by: PBF | December 15, 2005 03:54 PM

Gawd what a funny entry. Worth the wait. "...cant WAIT to see what they've put in the freezer." O sweet sarcasm. And pictures!!! Cute hippiosity, the Bumble and Gimmme too! Thank you thank you!

Posted by: Jen | December 15, 2005 04:16 PM

Miss Doxie:

You are such a cutie. You're so pretty and you have the best sense of humor. This has become my favorite site. Honestly.

You know, you should compile all of these entries and make them into a published book and then? Whenever crazy things happen to you, as they are wont to do, you can just look at your inevitable audience and say, "Yah? Well I'm a published writer. It's expected of me." Or something.

Merry Christmas to you, Miss Doxie, and your little dogs too.

Posted by: S. Faolan Wolf | December 15, 2005 04:49 PM

hahahahaha. Did you know that diet coke can burn your nostrils? Is it dorky that I am sad that since you wrote so much it will be twice as long until you write again? Is that too needy? lol..

Posted by: VeeBeeWhy? | December 15, 2005 05:17 PM

Hold on, I thought Bo was the blind one. How many blind dogs do you have? I am so confused.

Posted by: Eulallia | December 15, 2005 06:18 PM

Eulallia, Bo is the Bad one with a capital B. Remember? With the running away? And the Mom of Doxie? And the fish on the porch?
Love this blog. I perused the archives and I laughed and I cried and, well, you're cute! I purchased several things from one of the sites you mentioned on your gifts under ten bucks mess and referred my friends to your blog.
Some girls worship movie stars. I worship bloggers. It's so sad.

Posted by: Jackie Joy | December 15, 2005 08:24 PM

My favorite hippie headband (beaded, shades of brown) broke, and now I must get another. Yay for wannabe rich kid Widespread hippies!

Posted by: Kristen | December 15, 2005 09:04 PM

I was admiring the second to last picture and I just...couldn't...help noticing...your...eyes...

snort!

Bet you didn't see that coming! heeee!

Posted by: Rachel | December 15, 2005 09:04 PM

I am a moron. I forgot what I originally meant to comment on and just had to scroll through your eleventy-thousand word entry and eight hundred and forty two comments to say: I work at Ann Taylor. And I happen to know that there are cute suits on sale AND if you ask very sweetly they will give you the coupon that's out right now for 20% off a purchase of $175 or more. You heard it straight from the horse's mouth so don't let them turn you down. Now buy buy buy!

Posted by: Jackie Joy | December 15, 2005 10:10 PM

I feel as if I need a glass of wine after reading all of that. So glad to be Jewish, lol.

Posted by: Brighton | December 15, 2005 10:13 PM

I'm howling!!
You do realize that you jinxed the Bumble, don't you? It's BOUND to break now that you've declared it a tradition. But if you hadn't singled it out, it would hang around for years, no problem.

Or maybe my kids have jaded me. Good luck with the Bumble.

Posted by: Anne Glamore | December 15, 2005 10:14 PM

Okay - now that I'm at a better computer instead of sneaking blogs at work - I see that those are NOT condoms. My bad.

But really, am I the only one that thought that?

That would have been so cool.

HOLIDAY CONDOMS! PREVENT PREGNACY AT CHRISTMAS!

Posted by: joaaanna | December 15, 2005 10:24 PM

What kills me the most is that you had the good sense to take the photo of the stapled chicken.

Posted by: Serenity | December 16, 2005 12:15 AM

Ooooooohhh! Pretty tree! Thanks for another funny entry to read after an especially long and frustrating day working in TV land. Oh and thanks for the gifty suggesstions. I bought a pleather corsette for my friend who collects barbies. You rock miss!

Posted by: Wen | December 16, 2005 02:41 AM

Hey, that tree does not at all look crooked! It's a very nice tree!

I am jealous. I am not sure if I'm more jealous of the tree decorating or the tree decorating wine, but my money's on the latter. I have to work at my second job next week, so I miss out on all tree decorating. But bonus - no Fraser Fir Drama for me!

Posted by: Coleen | December 16, 2005 09:47 AM

Doxie! What are you stuffing that sausage dog with? Poor Gimmee, the little legs can't even reach the floor from that position. Please tell us how Gimmee got his name. I have wondered that for some time.
The tree looks very nice. I have a friend who HATES the tangled light thing so much she just throws them out with the tree and buys new ones every year. I know-- very unenviromentally friendly, but she says so is the fact she would become a serial killer otherwise.

Posted by: Mommamack | December 16, 2005 11:13 AM

Oh, dear God, I love you so much. Oh god, help me with the nonsexual, nonstalkerish pining for the cool, funny, blonde chick on the other side of the country. Also please link to the entry about the dogs barking at the ghost of the guy who killed himself in your house. I think I might like that image even more than the image of Gimme nosing suspiciously at the tree.

Posted by: victoria | December 16, 2005 11:32 AM

I just found your blog over at Galloping Cats...you gotta love a blogger with wieners! I have two (Winifred and Frieda) and recently posted pictures. I don't talk about them much, but yes, they are BAD. Drop by some time...you've inspired me to a add a category about them.

Posted by: Lynnette | December 16, 2005 11:51 AM

Not only has a new Christmas tradition been born this day, but I smell the plot for a CBS Christmas special, "The little headband that saved Christmas".

Posted by: Suz | December 16, 2005 03:52 PM

Wow, where do I begin, what do I say to all that. There are truly no words except Wow. I guess I can't get past the staple incident.

Posted by: Anne | December 16, 2005 04:51 PM

How did I know the ceiling fan would be in there somewhere? Watch out for it when you take the tree down this year. Oh and I want hot cleaners too. In fact, I'll settle for some homely cleaners if that's all I can get.

Posted by: Shawna | December 16, 2005 05:10 PM

Poor Gimmme- his nose is telling him he's near a tree and don't dogs usually pee against trees? No wonder he's confused.
My huband once found a fish skeleton in his pub lunch . Which was chili con carne. No idea. How these things happen.
You look totally cute in your headband.
Please post elf pictures!

Posted by: fifi | December 18, 2005 05:27 AM

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