It's A Gooder Thing!
Every morning for the last month or so, around the same time I'm pulling into the Rape Garage for work, my blackberry gives off a little email buzzle to alert me to the fact that, LO, once again, Martha Stewart -- the woman who brought us glittered pumpkins, a notion deemed so fabulous that glittered pumpkins were subsequently available at my Target this Halloween -- has been kind enough to send me the instructions for a Christmas craft I can hand-make for my loved ones, O, thank you, Our Lady Of Consumable Creativity. And, according to the daily email, all of these crafts are "Good Things (TM)", but...I don't know. I kind of have issues with an awful lot of the Good Things, y'all.
I mean, to begin with, there's no consistency in skill level -- one day, Martha's all, "Uh, yeah, take some old pot holders, super-glue them together, and VOILA IT IS A SCARF" and I'm like, "That is ugly, no." Then the next day, Martha says, "Step one: know how to knit, weld, and speak German" and 45 steps later, you've built a pair of scissors and a decorative hubcap out of discarded soup cans. And again I say no, because I am not going to put forth that much effort into hand-making something I can just go pick up at Target for ten bucks (COUGH *glittered pumpkin* COUGH). So, these are not things that are necessarily good, is my point; sometimes, they are just things that will waste your time, make you say swear words, and drive you to drink.
But still, you know how I get all crafty and stuff. And I know that a lot of y'all do, too. So I decided I would share a good thing of my own with y'all, in keeping with the holiday spirit. Maybe you do not have a gift for someone special out there, in which case: rejoice, procrastinator! Here is something I actually made for my father last year, in a random spark of brilliance. And I promise that this thing is actually good, because (a) it really is quite easy to make, and (b) you can't pick this shit up at Target. At least, not this season.
So, here we go: A Gooder Thing, In Steps:
Step 1: Watch National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. This is a necessary step, because if you don't know this movie, then this entire entry and ensuing project will make no sense to you whatsoever and you will just think I've lost my mind. If you would like to stop reading now and go watch it, that would be fine, and I will wait here and drink eggnog out of moose-shaped glass mugs until you get back. Meanwhile, I get to skip this step, because my family has watched National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation so many times that we each have our own roles to play when we recite it, WORD FOR WORD, every time it comes on. Also, we can recite the whole thing on car trips, or at any point when we are bored and congregating. We are a joy to be around, is what I am saying. Also, I am saying that I pretty much know this movie inside and out, to the point that it is probably imparted somehow into my own DNA, and if I ever bear children, they will pop out and say something like, "The shitter's full!" and I will be like, yeah, I figured as much.
Step 2: Gather supplies. You will need:
(a) One Helper, in the form of hot husband/life partner/tolerant-person-who-will-look-at-you-skeptically-but-will-soon-comprehend-the-brilliance-of-your-plan;
(b) One Santa coat and hat (gloves optional, but entertaining);
(c) stuffed squirrel toy (one)
(note: very important that this not be a living squirrel);
(d) squirrel colored thread (some);
(e) needle (one);
(f) Sharpie (one); and
(g) alcohol (dealer's choice).
Step 3: Drink alcohol; share with Partner. Force Partner to put on Santa coat, and turn around, so you can look at Partner's fine hiney, as so:
Fine Hiney Not Pictured
Step 4. Position stuffed squirrel on Santa coat. Get all four Squirrel legs spread eagle, in the style of flying squirrel, or squirrel "getting low" on dance floor. Mark foot locations on jacket with Sharpie, as so:
Step 5: Remove jacket from Partner (IMPORTANT STEP)
(Or, Modified Step 5: Apologize for poking; provide Bactine to Partner; realize you should have removed jacket from Partner prior to step 6.)
(Also, this is a good time to recover Squirrel from Bo.)
Step 6: Using squirrel-colored thread, sew squirrel feet to jacket on designated Sharpie marks.
Step 7: Giggle at yourself for nine hours, and then stuff whole shebang into large, unattractive box; decorate with bow that fell off of something else, because you're classy like that.
Step 8: Step back and watch the phases of excellence unfold before your very eyes:
STAGE 1: WTF
STAGE 2: OMG
STAGE 3: LOL
And, bonus stage, if you are my family -- the recipients of your Gooder Thing reenact the actual scene from Christmas Vacation, and run up the stairs with the squirrels attached to their backs, in the manner of Clark Griswold on that fateful. fateful evening:
Hee. Oh, we are crazy people, I know. But now you know how to be crazy, too! And you can't tell me that this isn't one of the more awesome handmade presents you've ever seen in your whole life, because: yes, it is. Ooo, and! Another good idea we had was a 3-D puzzle shaped like the leg lamp from a Christmas Story; you could put Fra-Gee-Lay back together again! Then we also had some bad ideas to balance out all of the good ones. Like sweat-scented deodorant. Sweat-scented deodorant would be a terrible idea, which is probably why, out of all of these products, it is the one most likely to appear at Urban Outfitters next year.
Thank you to all of y'all for welcoming me back so warmly, and for all of your sweet words about our wedding. Brian and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday, and that all of you are surrounded by love and happiness, and all of the goodest things in the world!
Happily Ever After
Hello, you sweet things. Guess the hell what?
Yes we did!
Senator Sasquatch has become Mr. Doxie, and it's time for a brand new adventure. It's been way too long, I'm happier than I've ever been, and I miss the hell out of writing. And Bo can be silenced no longer.
LOOK, LADIES! IS BO. BO SEXY AND DISTINGUISHED LIKE SEAN CONNERYS.
So...here I am, once again. Please be patient with me; it's hard to come back, and I'm terrified that now that I'm happy, I won't be funny anymore (what if all I do is moon over how cute my husband is? Because, y'all: OMG he's ADORABLE. Want to read all his love notes? Or see his baby pictures? Or, hey! I could describe how good he smells, in iambic pentameter! I...y'all?).
Point being, I'm probably going to be easing in, but dear CHRIST, do I have some stories to tell -- we got engaged in April, my sister got married in May, and then WE got married in September. My life has been a matrimonial whirlwind of showers and invitations and 70,000 trips to Michael's, and honestly, it was the most fun ever, but HOLY HELL am I glad we don't have to do it again. And incidentally, in case you were wondering from the picture above -- yeah, we got married in a cemetery. Hello. We are insane people.
Anyway, that's where we are now; I married my soulmate, on top of a whole bunch of dead guys. The wedding was beautiful and perfect and awesome and I will probably talk about it until forever. We continue to be tormented by (a) Gimmme, (b) Bo, and (c) Evil Kitteh. And it's better than I could have ever imagined. (And, bonus: now we have a metric shit-ton of housewares! Seriously, there is no fancy-ass kitchen implement which we did NOT receive as a wedding gift. Our toaster can do math. It communicates with NASA. It possibly plans to harvest our organs in our sleep but we don't even care because YAY, GOLDEN TOASTY BREAD PRODUCTS).
(Meanwhile, also please note that the toaster has become our fourth pet. Its name is Toaster. As in, "Toaster made this for you; it's TOAST" or "Shh, Toaster is calibrating something!" or "Toaster seems to be calling the President." Anyway, Toaster is way smarter than the dogs, and earns bonus points because Toaster has yet to shit on the coffee table. Toaster is rapidly becoming Mommy's favorite, until I wake up one day without a kidney. BAD TOASTER!)
And...yeah, here we are. I'm just going to post this now, send it out there without editing, but I just wanted to check in, share all this crazy, overwhelming joy we've got going, and say hey, after much too long. And, of course, to announce that from now on...it's Mrs. Doxie. Which, all said, is just another way of saying, EEEEEEEE, YOU GUYS, I GOT MOTHERFUCKING MARRIED!
Yay, the dogs are legitimate now!
Love to all of y'all, and I'll be back soon -- I promise. This time, I'm here to stay, for better or worse.