Mambo Santa Mambo

Have a rockin' day, my little mugs of spiced wassail! I'm off to break in my new Red Ryder bb gun with a compass in the stock and this thing which tells time. Eyes will probably be shot out.

Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree

Merry Christmas eve, everyone! Or if you're Jewish, then Happy Hanukkah. If you're a new age-y granola type, then Happy Winter Solstice. If you're an atheist, then Happy nothing. I hope you all get what you deserve. (That sounds a bit ominous and foreboding, doesn't it?) Deck those halls, bring us some figgy pudding, please to put a penny in the old man's hat and don your gay apparel.

"Got no sleigh with reindeer, No sack on my back, You're gonna see me comin' in a big black Cadillac." A little Xmas cheer, blitzed-out, forgetful King-style:



One of the most real depictions of what Christmas is really like for most people. Starts out beautiful and hopeful but eventually turns dismal and wrong. Thank JEBUS for those crazy kids, The Pogues, for writing the best Xmas lyrics ever: "Happy Christmas you arse, I pray God its our last". How the hell can I look it but not be Irish?



Happy Holidays, to all of my little peppermint twists! Lumps of coal for everyone!

Run Rudolph Run

Hi, my name is Kim and it's been 21 minutes since I've re-gifted. Can we talk about re gifting, just for a sec? Is it always totally tacky or is it sometimes acceptable to do for someone you feel rather "meh" about and deep down inside you're only giving them a present because you sort of have to? I need to know if I'm tacky. DO TELL. Here's the scenario: I'm all done shopping for my ungrateful friends and family. I'm even done with all those random people you forget about until the last minute (teachers, in-laws, kids, whatever.) And then it dawned on me this morning that I forgot the mailman. And screw you political correctness, he's a man who delivers my mail. I'm not calling him my "mail carrier" or "postal worker". BALLS. TO. THAT.

So I re-gifted that mofo. I re-gifted him good. I heard him on my porch, delivering the mail, as that's what he does, DUH, so I opened up the door in a grand, sweeping, dramatic and actually kid of retarded sort of way that scared the bejesus outta him and handed him an envelope, while I nervously mumbled some stupid crap and went back inside. (Why was I nervous?) The guy looked so happy and thanked me and Merry Xmas-ed me and almost skipped back to his little truck and drove off. Oh CRAP. He's happy. Too happy. Probably thinks I put cash in there. I did not. What I did out in there is a $20 gift card to a local pizza joint that a friend of mine gave me, but it's been sitting here for a month and I never get to that part of town, so screw you Vinny D's Pizza, I will not eat in your fine Italian establishment. And now I know why I'm nervous~ because it's a garbage present, isn't it?! That was a totally lame gift I gave the dude! What if he's lactose-intolerant? What if his family has a century-long beef with the Vinny D family, due to the pasta sauce delivery incident of 1923? Why would I think that was a good gift? Just because I would enjoy a gift card to a food place doesn't mean the world would. I can't ever face him again. I guess I'm going to have to move to a new town, where they don't know me as a lame gift-giver. Again. My love of cheese has gotten me into another fine mess.

Mele Kalikimaka

In case you've ever wondered what kind of high-class, fancy pants sort of Xmas decorating I do, wonder no more, my little figgy puddings. This is what happens when you drink and deck the halls...




...you get a garland of mini cocktail shakers and martini glasses. I had boring-ass white lights (not a fan) strung around the hallway arch and it needed some kind of tacky white-trashification...a few Mai Tais later and voila! A Martha Stweart Christmas is born. I have a couple dozen each of the martinis and shakers~ they're not vintage of course but schmacy all the same, from a few years ago when I had a "real" job, a retail management stint that sold kitschy crap like this at Xmas. I've been trying to figure out a way of making a necklace out of them, but so far it's a fail. Too heavy and clunky. And also, I'm pretty sure the white girl Mr. T-meets-Flavor Flav look is...not good, at the very least.



Notice the hand-crafted (AKA mass-produced in China) attention to detail in the olive-on-stick.



And the lid comes off the shaker! I love working, movable parts on mini things. The shaker would make a swell gift-giving receptacle, but considering it's all of 3" tall, what could one put in it? Poppy seeds? Tic Tacs? Valium? "Merry Christmas, Grandma! Look inside! It's half an ounce of dope! Good for you!"

(More trashy decorating to come, assuming the spiced rum holds out...)

Swingin' Them Jingle Bells

If you're like me (and jebus help you if you are), then you probably also wait 'til the very last minute to buy crap for your peeps. But a word of advice, no matter how much your Dad says he'll love whatever you get him, slapping a bow on a bag of Funyuns and a can of Slim Jims ain't gonna cut it from the Kwikie Mart on Xmas Day. And anyway, forget about those damn ingrates. What junk are they going to get you? The new Britney Spears perfume? A Snuggie? (Ok, so I secretly really, reeeeally want one of those creepy, monk-like, cocoon-y...blanket...robe...dealies. If you have no idea what I'm talking about as usual, you can see the craptastic commercial for it here. It is LAME and I love it.)

Well screw that. Spend money on something purdy for yourself instead. 'Tis the season to be a greedy bastard, or whatever. I think that's what the song's moral is, isn't it? Get ready for greatness. (Whoever can tell me what movie that line is from wins nothing!)

I've been looking online for vintage Xmas novelty prints in clothing and there is not much out there. What gives? There's tons of kitschy 50's tablecloths. Awesome, but you can't rock a tablecloth to a party. Well you could, at the risk of looking like the institution let you out a little too soon before treatment was complete. And there's lots of coolio vintage fabrics out there, such as this one below from Fuzzielizzie aka The Vintage Traveler. You know I can't stand me some cats, but vintage 50's kittehs wearing bows under Xmas trees is too much.



But I did indeed find a few fan-freaking-tastic vintage pieces of clothing that you might die for. Or maybe you won't, but you would if you knew what was good for ya. And it's not too late, my little plum puddings. You can still get all of these things in time for Xmas but act fast! Or don't, what do I care. Try to show you something nice and it goes unappreciated. I still love you though, my little sweet savory sausages. (Click on each pic to take you to the listings.)

Vintage 60's party dress~ you can't tell from this picture, but in the weave of the dress is Christmas ornaments! You can wear your BALLS on you sleeve. You heard. From my homeslice Dorothea's Closet Vintage:



This is probably *thee* most Xmas-y dress you've ever seen. Seriously, it is. Because I said it is. Good god y'all, I love this vintage 50's dress- well, it's not a dress, but a blouse and skirt set, so you really can make a jillion different outfits from it. Or 3. But you see what I'm getting at. From mi amiga bonita Senorita Hollywood Vintage:



And finally from yours truly, me, of Fast Eddie's Retro Rags, comes this vintage late 50's/early 60's novelty print blouse with HUGE cuffs and a trillion sparkling rhinestones. Am I insane for thinking it's the coolest thing ever? You should probably not answer that, unless the answer is "Why yes, Kim. Yes it is."




The front has a print of a tree and presents...



...and the back has an old-timey carriage scene of old-timey peeps doing old-timey things. Dig it.

Girl You Know It's True

(Damn straight it's Milli Vanilli!)

The Xmas presents are just pouring in here at my house- well, maybe not so much pouring as trickling, really...drip, drip, drip...Like Chinese water torture. Minus the Chinese...or the water...or torture. So it's not like that at all. OK, so I got a second present in the mail from another deranged friend, next to the infamous Zombie Bird of Doom. This one was from another one of my freaky deaky friends, Jen over at MomsPatterns. She sent me a fantastic magazine from the 40's, there's no cover and missing pages but it's probably one of those aimed at housewives, like "Ladies Home Journal" or "Get Back In The Kitchen And Birth Some Babies, After You Make Your Man A Chicken Pot Pie". One of the wonderful things about vintage magazines (besides the clothing I'd give my firstborn for- $2.98 for a rhinestone cardigan? I'll take 20, please), are the ads. Those wonderful, condescending ads aimed at us stupid, silly women. How dare we even be allowed to read? We are so out of line.

Behold some of the wonder and fun of being a woman in the 40's:



Why was she so nervous and unhappy in the first place that warranted her husband drugging her uppity ass with downers? Getting scrappy in my house? No way, bitch! Thanks, Dr, Nervine!




Even white girls get the blues. You know what's a "periodic pain"? Your husband, honey.




There better not be any single people taking this quiz, because it's for married folks only. Only married people have any concept of sex, don'tcha know. And as we all know if you're not married and have s-e-x, your neighbors will shun you, you'll have to say 4 billion hail Mary's and you'll be kicked out of the sewing circle. Remember that, ladies. Remember that.


But best of all is the fine print of the quiz:



You stupid, simpering cows. It's YOUR FAULT your husband is cheating on you. The homely housewife neglected her "special lady bits" and sent her husband into a tizzy and wrote a letter to another woman, so I hope she's happy now. Luckily, Lysol will prevent your husband from banging his secretary, apparently. Perhaps our lonely, loser wife should have an affair with Dr. Nervine. He cures everything!

For a change of pace, how's about he get his butt to steppin' and dry those dishes? This apron must have been invented by a woman. A man? In the kitchen? Oh, a girl can dream, can't she? (Dr. Nervine informs me that no, she cannot.)



(Cute-and-unrealistic vintage 50's apron for sale on Etsy. Click pics to get you to seller's listing.)

Oh, Tannenbaum

How is it possible that I had more Xmas spirit on Halloween than I do now? Is it wrong that all I want to do is eat fried things, watch Saved By the Bell and blame everyone else for my Grinchy disposition? I thought not.

Total presents bought: 0
Total cards mailed: 0
Total cookies baked: 0
Total carols sung: 1. But I was flying high on eggnog, so it DOESN'T COUNT as being festive.

I blame the malls and Targets and places of mass consumerism for pushing Xmas in our grills too early. You know who else I blame? Lemme think...Jebus Claus. I blame him, somehow. What with his forcing his 8 Reindeer Of The Apocalypse on us, threatening us to be good OR ELSE. And Rudolph doesn't count as one of the team players. He's a freaking GIMP for crying out loud. A gimp with a robot nose. Why is HE so special that he gets the cherry spot all the way up front? I'm sure Dasher and Dancer behind him are quite sick to death of staring at the "handicapped" licence plate hanging from his ass. I bet they're just itching to throw his lame ass overboard when Jebus Clause isn't looking and blame it on trade winds. Whatever happened to survival of the fittest and all? Casting out the less-able and putting the strongest and most virile in charge? Even Jebus Clause fell prey to the PC-ness of the Season. Either that, or he was threatened to be sued by Rudolph's parents for gimpy nose discrimination.

I did, however, manage to put up my tree this weekend. I love me some of that wonky tree that takes forEVer to put together. It's up, but it's not decorated, which will be done in stages throughout the week or however long the eggnog lasts.

Here's a current, "before" pic:



Yeah, it's sitting on a hatbox with no tree skirt around it yet and not decorated and looking rather sad and unloved currently, so what, you wanna fight about it?

It has the coolest little explosions on the end of each branch, like the tree is regurgitating shredded soda cans.



Perhaps when the mood behooves me, I'll show the "after" picture, once I make purdy my "Evergleam Stainless Aluminum 7 Foot Tree With Tripod Stand" (so says the box, what, you think I could make that crap up?)