Elf on the Shelf

The Elf on the Shelf is the latest craze in Christmas stories, and they fly off the shelves at work. They're also creepy as fuck and even though I'm an adult (technically, not in any other way, let's be real) I wouldn't want that in my house. Seriously. Look at the picture. And the premise is that these elves work for Santa and will report back on how the kids behave to determine if they're naughty or nice. That's all I know about them.

Turns out, I should know a hell of a lot more when I'm working in the kids section, because then I may have avoided the following awkward conversation with a little girl when she asked about these weird little fuckers.

Little Girl: How do you get the Elf out of the box?!

Me: That seems like an odd question. You open the box?

LG: But you can't touch him!

Me: Er...what?

LG: If you touch him, his magic disappears!

Me: Right. Naturally. Well. I think that once you got him home, he'd get out of the box on his own and then do...whatever he does.

LG: But then why does he stay in his box in the store if he can get out?

Me: You ask a lot of questions. Maybe because he knows he has to wait to get home?

LG: Oh. That makes sense.

Me: Thank god.

Kids are exhausting.

Love,

M

When Art Imitates Life?

The other night I was watching the Santa Clause 2 with my friend (pretty sure he wanted to kill himself. I was having a great time). There's a scene, when Santa is trying to find his Mrs. Clause, that shows Santa on a date with a super weird chick who's all into Christmas and wants to be a singer-songwriter.

In order to show her talents, she does an impromptu show in the middle of the restaurant, complete with dancing, singing, and arm flailing. It was embarrassing to watch, and I couldn't imagine anyone who would do that.

Apparently my friend could, though, because as she finished her song, he turns to me and says,  "I could see you doing something like that."

I think I hit him.

Love,

M

Daily Conversations Between Friends

Nothing about this photo seems wrong. It all seems very, very right.

SM: I'm going to get all snuggled in, watch Dexter, eat some chips and dip, then bed time.

Me: I'm gonna have a bath with hot chocolate!

SM: ...you're bathing in hot chocolate?

Me: No but that would be amazing!

SM: Marshmallows as bubbles?

Me: YES! OMG best ever. I want to live where that exists.

Love,

M

First Impressions

So it won't come as any surprise to people that have spent more than 5 minutes with me that I have a sarcastic, self-deprecating, and overall weird sense of humour. It also probably won't come as any surprise that not everyone understands it, and even less people that appreciate and don't think I'm a complete lunatic (and to them, I want to say that I'm sorry you have such a boring, regular sense of humour). The ones that most often think I'm a huge fucking weirdo are the guys in their mid 20s who clearly spend their time with "normal" girls who...well to be honest, I don't know much about these girls. I don't spend much time with them!

The other day, my Mom and I were at a boxing gym inquiring about their classes. Usually when I first meet someone, my humour kicks into overdrive because I'm actually super uncomfortable and nervous when meeting new people. So I made the following comments:

"Do the bags come back and hit you when you box? Mine does, probably because I'm so strong."

"Is there a dress code here?"

"There are girls that go to this gym, right?!"

"My boxing gloves are pink. Because I'm super tough."

At these comments, the guys just stared at me. Like, they had no idea what to say or how to react. That in and of itself was funny. I mentioned that to my Mom as we were driving home, and she replied, "Yeah, I noticed that, too. You may want to tone those kinds of comments down a bit when you first meet people. It's just...I don't think people know how to handle you."

Ah, and that final comment describes the base of my lacklustre love life. So very few people know how to handle me. Bless them.

Love,

M