Dear Santa,

It’s been a busy year here at the Museum. You wouldn’t believe the number of meetings it takes to come up with excuses for not putting together any new exhibitions in months. That alone took up almost two thirds of our Executive Breakfast Treats budget! Then we had to drink all that beer to make that gown, and the extra time in rehab delayed our yearly Team Building Exercise retreat.

In the end, we had to opt for economy package and ended up tying cans of corn to our feet and walking across the snowy parking lot, cheering each other on as we took turns dodging cars from the contemporary art museum next door. They’re very angry people.

As a business owner yourself, you surely understand what it takes to keep your employees happy. You must toss those indentured elves a bone once in a while. Painting nipple rings and perfectly coiffed pubic hair onto Bratz dolls is grueling work, and you can’t expect them to find new and interesting ways to pimp out Elmo without a little light at the end of the tunnel, am I right? So I am hereby submitting my gift list for the staff of the MOKS.

I know it’s late, but you must have these gems tucked away somewhere in your workshop. Get on it, fat man. Do not make me call the child welfare department. Elves. Riiiiiight.

Ok, so I was thinking that there weren’t nearly enough opportunities to knock over salad on a daily basis, so how about one of these precarious salad towers. Could you make sure one of the legs is just a little shorter than the others? It’s for Gail and she’s really been chapping my hide with all her “equal pay” this and “OSHA regulations” that.

And toss this in, too. I’m feeling very passive aggressive today.

One of our new employees, Winnebago Lynne McCoy, is always going on about her kids and how they say the durndest thing and have all their various daddies’ eyes. Well, put up or shut up Winnie Lynne. Let’s see those precious demon seed you keep telling us about. Our insurance doesn’t cover the physical therapy you’ll require after lugging this thing around, but it has sound and everything! Just look at that protuberant microphone on top! The woman in the catalog sure looks like she’s having fun capturing her son’s humiliating defeat in the snowball fight of the century. Or is that a deadly avalanche? Either way, it’ll be fun to watch later.

For Belinda in Exhibits. Oh Belinda, your ironic love of 1980’s fashion will never stop pissing of your co-workers. No matter how hard you try to explain why it’s “funny”, you are only digging yourself deeper. You want to rip on the 50s, 60s and 70s with us? Fine! We’re totally on board. Some of that stuff is hysterical. What the hell were they thinking?! But the 80s? No. The wounds are too fresh. The memories are too clear. The legwarmers are still warm.

So Belinda, this is for you.

No Santa, not the outfits. These look like the kind of girls that terrorized me in Jr. High, so I’d like you to get them to come to the office to harass Belinda, to make her aware of her shortcomings in the bitchiest way possible. And I want them to say the word “like” constantly, I want every sentence to end as though it were a question, and I want them to speak in Valley Girl and not stop, not matter how much Belinda begs.

I believe this is their leader, “The Headband”. Find her and the others won’t be far, they move in a pack. Her real name is Melissa, but I think The Headband is much more intimidating. Belinda will, like, totally gag her with a spooooon?

Just bring Jane in Exhibits a big bottle of hooch. She works with Belinda all day and the one in the bottom drawer of her desk is just about empty.

I think Vito needs something as sexy as he is. These ought to do the trick.

I got a very specific and somewhat disturbing gift request from Ted in Acquisitions. But who am I to deny a man his interests? The man love Annie and he’s not afraid to shout it from the rooftops. Even if it means me having to bail him out of jail at three in the morning for disturbing the peace.

Yes. The wig, too.

And he picked out something for his assistant, Jim. They’ve been spending a lot more time together lately, so I think this is some kind of “inside joke” between them. He wouldn’t tell me what it was, he just gave me the catalog number. It looks to be a casting and molding kit. I’m not one for speculation, but I would say that these boys may be starting some kind of kinky side business. Looks like they’re not all that interested in the softer side of Sears.

Tammy in Accounting? Well, I’m not really sure what you get a girl like Tammy. Usually I just get her a big bottle of antibiotics and some hand wipes, but this year, let’s try something different. She like animals, and I bet she likes them even more when they’re stapled to a puffy down coat! So let’s go with this.

She spends a fair amount of time standing around on street corners in her off hours, so maybe some lovely boots that will keep her warm and fashionable at the same time. Hey, slutty Martians need love, too.

And let’s not forget Tammy in Reception. Tammy, oh Tammy. How many hours have you spent online searching for ways to retouch this year’s Christmas card photo of you and your cats having a tea party while you should have been typing up invoices? Well, it’s all over, because I’m taking your computer and replacing it with one of these relics. Do kids today even understand what “carriage return” means?

And do they understand that back in the day, it took SIX EASY STEPS to correct a mistake?

And that for some inexplicable reason, every single thing had to be labeled for the obtuse masses?

Probably not. But because Tammy works hard, I’d also like her to have the Barbie and Ken Sham Marriage Playset. It includes:

A very body conscious Ken who spends a lot of time at the gym on the west side of town.

And Barbie, a popular musician who plays torch songs in smokey bars full of handsome men who are screaming for her to do her Liza medley.

You get an official wedding photo for the press.

And a cold but very tastelfully designed home where you spend evenings tossing back brandy and wondering just where the hell it all went wrong.

And then Barbie beats the crap out of Ken at a ritzy restaurant, Ken sues, Barbie goes on a binge of pills and booze and spends 3 months in rehab for “exhaustion”, then gets here own reality show. It’s really fun!

And for everyone, new uniforms!!

And Santa, if you have room in your bag and if you value the lives of your merry reindeer team and don’t want me to give your address to Sarah Palin, who loves her some reindeer burgers, I will gladly accept anything from this page with girlsh glee. They’re all radios! All of ’em! The beer, the ketchup, the burger. Heck, even the radio-shaped one!!

But if I had to pick one, it would be the radio/toilet paper holder. It would be the answer to a number of problems in my daily life and to all of my prayers since I was but a small child who only wished she could rock out to her favorite tunes while wiping.

Thank you in advance for your cooperation in this matter. I look forward to working with you again.

Stitchy McYarnpants

Museum of Kitschy Stitches, Curator Happy Holidays!!

Happy holidays to all of our museum patrons! As the curator of the MOKS, I take special glee at creating a Christmas exhibit for you every year. Some years go more smoothly than others. This year, due to unexpected (and kind of gross) circumstances, I got derailed. And just the weensiest bit lacerated. So the MOKS staff Yankee Swap has been postponed for a couple of days and instead, we’re taking the tacky way out. We’re Regifting.

So lets dispense with the formalities and enjoy my personal favorite part of the holidays – rehashing all of the wrongs that have been perpetrated against me the leftovers! We’re going to blackmail the ghost of MOKS past to take us on a sentimental(ly ill) journey back in time. Turns out that ghosts of things past are just as susceptible to bad choices in front of a camera as the rest of us. Lucky us!

Merry Kitschmas!!

Stitchy McYarnpants and the entire MOKS Staff!

Here’s an oldie but goodie from 2004 – the very first MOKS Christmas Craptacular!

And here are a couple of my favorites from this exhibit:

This festive wreath evokes all the charm and warmth of a toilet seat on a cold Christmas morning. Honestly, spend the $5 at the grocery store and get a real one. Or go into the woods to collect some fresh foliage and make one. Or steal one from the neighbors. Or buy a plastic one. Or hang a dead cat on your door. Anything but this.

You know what this world needs? Fewer drunk rabbits in yellow pants ranting about the rising price of carrots and Medicare not covering the cost of his fake foot that those bastards thought was lucky – lucky for who, tell me that! – and another thing, I love you man. Merry Kizzm . . . kizzmu . . . kriszzmi . . . Happy Holidays ~belchhh~

You may as well wrap a shiny new butcher knife with this lil’ treasure because when he comes to life, he’s just going to head to the kitchen to get one anyway. How else is he going to kill everyone in the house in a violent orgy of blood and screaming?

**

And in 2005, we took a wild ride on a magic carpet made of a 1978 Sears Catalog!

Here are a couple of my favorites:

Welp, you might as well face it. Its time for the company party again. For the past three years you’ve avoided it by reporting the same grandmother’s death over and over again. They’re on to you and you will be participating in the Yankee Swap this time around. Forget thoughtful. Forget practical. This year, prove your disdain with inexplicable uselessness. The Coney Island Steamer is guaranteed to bring a frown to everyone it gets unloaded on. This thing will get passed around the office faster than Tammy in accounting. While the name brings to mind something you might find in a porta-potty under the docks, the Coney Island Steamer itself proves just about as useful. Hot dogs. One at a time. Perfect for that family of five who don’t mind waiting eons for their clammy portion of soggy bread and pig lips lovingly encased in animal intestine.

. . . Pedro the Christmas Burro can rest easy this year. It’s Frosty’s turn to take one for the team and martyr himself in the name of Christmas. Fill him up, arm the kids, and teach them the true meaning of the season. Blindly beat the crap out of stuff until you get what you want. In this case, piles of candy falling from the torn and battered corpse of a snowman.

(please enjoy the name of this photo, it still tickles me)

**

Again in 2005, we returned to the Sears Catalog for a look at some holiday appropriate attire:

Mommy is going to wear her polyester caftan because once the holiday eating starts, it’s not going to stop until she’s asked to leave for making the rest of the family uncomfortable.

**

And yet again, we returned. Boy, we milked that Sears Catalog for all it was worth . . . or DID we?? (stay tuned)

In this exhibit, we made a number of readers’ Christmas dreams come true. In a virtual way, of course:

For jenifleur, it’s her heart’s desire. A Super Star Barbie, complete with stage set! She can control Barbie’s Super Diva hissy fits by remote control – now with vase-throwing action! Articulated wrist lets Barbie toss back cocktails, pop pills and gesticulate wildly at Ken’s ridiculous assertions that maybe she has a problem.

Stephanie, please accept out apologies, you’re going to have to go commando. Sears had no Underoos to offer, but I agree, they did look “Fun to Wear!” Being naked under your clothes is fun, too. But now you can stretch to your heart’s content with Stretch Armstrong and his new “companion”, the Stretch Serpent. He appears to be a product of the unholy union between a Sleestack and a bookworm who’s been reading too much in the dark, but he and Stretch are in love and that’s all that matters.

**

2006 did not see a special Holiday Exhibit. We lost a lot of peripheral staff members you’ve never heard of in the War on Christmas that year. It was tough, but if you’re going to go around callously wishing people “Happy Holidays”, well, you get what you deserve. Oddly, all of those staff members were given red jerseys as their uniform. Huh.

But there was a Christmas-in-August sort of thing that year!

This Kandy Klown is the worst of both worlds for a kid. Its arrival on Christmas morning could very possibly be enough of a buzz-kill to ruin the whole day. Pep-O-Mint is the least loved of all sugary confections. Well, it’s a close second to a giant block of sticky ribbon candy, anyway. Perching the decapitated head of a clown on top does nothing to add to its appeal. Graft on some ambiguous yarn limbs and you’ve got what grandma would call an “adorable treat” and what junior can’t wait to strap an entire package of firecrackers onto.

**

And finally, last year, we launched a full-fledged investigation into the War on Christmas. We really wanted to get our red uniforms back. See the shocking report here!

Here is an excerpt of our Nobel Prize Winning documentation of the scene on the ground:

Once inside, they spied Santa and one of his favored elves lounging in the workshop.

After incurring heavy fines for operating under sweatshop conditions many years ago, Santa was thought to have improved conditions for his workers. Conditions have changed, alright. In fact, no toymaking was going on at all. Conveyor belts, doll-painting machines and jack-in-the-box stuffers have all been replaced with hot tubs and massage tables. The only toys in sight were the sort exclusively available to those with proper ID, many wrapped in plain paper so they could be delivered inconspicuously to the homes of Santa’s new, seamier clients. The environment could only be described as disturbingly over-affectionate.

Breaking News: War on Christmas leads to shocking discovery in North Pole!

While carrying out the nation’s clear but double-super-secret strategy for victory in the War on Christmas, covert operations in the wintery wonderland have lead investigators to a shocking cover-up in Santa’s Workshop. While searching for signs of non-compliance to the new regulations meant to insure acceptable enjoyment and celebration practices during the Christmas season, officials discovered that the jolly fat man is not who we thought he was. Sure, he’s still fat, but his jollies are not derived from delivering gifts to good boys and girls across the land. In fact, good behavior is a sure-fire way to stay off the list that Santa really cares about.

Upon arrival at the Claus compound, operatives were met with ferocious guard reindeer, trained to gore interlopers with their mighty horns. It was the first of many frightening encounters they would have.

Once inside, they spied Santa and one of his favored elves lounging in the workshop.

After incurring heavy fines for operating under sweatshop conditions many years ago, Santa was thought to have improved conditions for his workers. Conditions have changed, alright. In fact, no toymaking was going on at all. Conveyor belts, doll-painting machines and jack-in-the-box stuffers have all been replaced with hot tubs and massage tables. The only toys in sight were the sort exclusively available to those with proper ID, many wrapped in plain paper so they could be delivered inconspicuously to the homes of Santa’s new, seamier clients. The environment could only be described as disturbingly over-affectionate.

As the officers wandered further into the holly jolly village of sin, they began to suspect that the true meaning of Christmas had been lost somewhere along the way. Not the pagan meaning from before winter solstice celebration was co-opted by newcomers, but the second, more meaningful meaning. The celebration of the birth of Jesus, which most likely took place in April.

As they shook their heads in distaste and wondered how they could make this about them and their moral superiority, they were captured and bound by a most curious creature – a reingimp. Born a normal reindeer with a mild chemical imbalance and a penchant for the unusual, he was not suited to be one of Santa’s slay team at the front gates. His bizarre use of red ribbon and leather straps festooned with jingle bells shocked the Christmas Warriors and they were easily overtaken.

It is unknown how long they were with the reingimp or what transpired during that time, but we were assured that it was entirely wholesome.

It was nightfall before they were able to free themselves and by then Santa, Mrs. Claus and all their friends were relaxing after a dinner party and a rousing game of Truth or Dare. What our noble Knights of Noel saw was scandalous at best.

Carols sung by Barry White blared as Mrs. Claus held hands with a visiting clown. Her blatant display of infidelity in front of her husband was astounding until, upon closer inspection, they noticed Santa’s hand was also resting on the clown’s shoulder. Suddenly a Leprechaun and an angel stumbled over just as they were reaching the punchline of a filthy joke involving elves, a feisty dove and a menorah. The scent of mistletoe was thick in the air, they were full of holiday spirit, alright.

One can only imagine the debauchery that ensued, and unfortunately, that is what we must do as this is where our coverage ends. The Crusaders of the Creche turned in their story rather abruptly and were last seen buying pointed shoes and green tights from a local costume shop. There is no word on their current whereabouts.

This Kandy Klown is the worst of both worlds for a kid. Its arrival on Christmas morning could very possibly be enough of a buzz-kill to ruin the whole day. Pep-O-Mint is the least loved of all sugary confections. Well, it’s a close second to a giant block of sticky ribbon candy, anyway. Perching the decapitated head of a clown on top does nothing to add to its appeal. Graft on some ambiguous yarn limbs and you’ve got what grandma would call an “adorable treat” and what junior can’t wait to strap an entire package of firecrackers onto.

Santa just stopped by for a brewskie after his shift and he seems to think you’ve all been very good this year. He was a little tipsy, so it could just be that you were very sneaky. Regardless, he left some treats for everyone who requested something in the comments Friday, plus a few more goodies!

For jenifleur, it’s her heart’s desire. A Super Star Barbie, complete with stage set! She can control Barbie’s Super Diva hissy fits by remote control – now with vase-throwing action! Articulated wrist lets Barbie toss back cocktails, pop pills and gesticulate wildly at Ken’s ridiculous assertions that maybe she has a problem.

And once she gets out of rehab, Barbie can get a nice, normal, regular job selling airline tickets. How sad for Barbie. One minute, she’s on top of the world, and the next thing you know, the producers of the Surreal Life won’t even return her calls.

For Melissa (who’s blogname I don’t know because Blogger won’t tell me) and Dani, we’ve got some Barbie Fashion Plates. It’s like a year’s worth of Museum of Kitschy Stitches entries in one box! Fantastic! I always wanted these, too, but never got them. I spent a lot of time that year making impressions of coins and stuff with the tin-foil wrapping of my Ring Dings. ~sigh~

Could it be possible that Imbrium’s mother read the Sears catalog to her in utero? That’s where she was in 1978, and yet she yearned for a little robot friend named Alphie in the 80’s. It’s not entirely impossible that Alphie has been transmitting messages to her since before she was even born. Imbrium, do you feel unnatural urges to do simple math and sing the same five songs over and over for no reason?

Stephanie, please accept out apologies, you’re going to have to go commando. Sears had no Underoos to offer, but I agree, they did look “Fun to Wear!” Being naked under your clothes is fun, too. But now you can stretch to your heart’s content with Stretch Armstrong and his new “companion”, the Stretch Serpent. He appears to be a product of the unholy union between a Sleestack and a bookworm who’s been reading too much in the dark, but he and Stretch are in love and that’s all that matters.

Eerrrrm, here Marlena, it’s the Barbie Dream House you wanted! And look, there’s a car and a boat and some cool disco clothes! Enjoy, I gotta go! What’s that? It says her name is Tuesday Taylor? No, I think that’s just a typo, it’s Barbie. Huh? No, really, I think they just spelled it in French or something. She’s the same doll. Stop crying, Marlena, she’s just as good. Look, she’s even two-timing with Ken! Don’t pout, your face will freeze that way and then you’ll be sorry.

Here you go, Dani. Mousetrap. I think it’s great that you never actually had this game. You still have fond memories of its potential to actually be fun. If you had gotten it, you’d be just as disillusioned as the rest of us. By the time you unpack the whole thing and figure out how to play, you’ll have already lost at least two of the pieces, the marble will have rolled away and the cat will have taken off with the rubber band. But it’s ok, you would have never figured out just what the hell that rubber band was for anyway. I recommend just keeping your fantasies intact and never open the box.

Amy! Here is your very own set of twin Babies Alive! Can you believe that wacky mix-up at the fertility clinic?! Batteries still aren’t included, but just pillage them from every remote control and flashlight in the house, it’ll be fine. Word to the wise, hide Baby Alive’s food from your brother. If he’s anything like mine, he will eat it all before realizing that it doesn’t actually taste good and in fact, isn’t even really edible. He’ll get sick and it’ll be sort of funny for a while, but then you’ll have to find something else for Baby Alive to eat and you’ll resort to real food, which will eventually go bad and Baby Alive will then start to rot from the inside. Trust me, it ends badly for everyone involved. Boys ruin everything.

DebR, is there any possibility you could get some kind of body reduction surgery to get you to 1/8 scale? Because this is the best that Sears could do . . .

Your future is here, Beth. Quit your job and get started on your new career with this set of make-up heads, just for you! The first one has bendable hair that really holds a curl! The second one is the beautiful and talented Farrah Faucet! I mean, it’s actually Farrah Faucet. She really needed the work and agreed to sit still for as long as she could. Just be careful when you’re doing her lipstick, she gets a little twitchy and has a tendency to bite.

Hey itgirl, next time someone tells you to sit and spin, tell them you’ll be glad too! Just make sure you have a bucket or something.

Easy Bake Oven anyone? Oh, EVERYone wants one! Well, tough luck. You’re all getting the knock-off version. Sure, you’re still cooking with a light bulb, but what fun is a toy called the “Fun Time Oven”? Sounds a little suspicious to me. I mean, if it was so fun, they wouldn’t have to put it in the name, am I right? But we’ll throw in a snow cone machine (sorry, not the Snoopy Snow Cone machine, just the plain boring snowman one) and a Micky Mouse gumball bank. Find your own damned pennies, kid.

Ooh, look what we have here! Matchbox cars for Elisa! It’s time for you to be spoiled rotten, just like your cousins. And if it makes you feel better, I hear those Star Wars PJs are really itchy.

Melanie, like I said, word on the street is that those pajamas will put ants in your pants. Santa wanted you to have one of these instead. He said something about wanting to see you try to get up and out of it once you’d been sitting there for a while.

And for everyone else who missed out on the toys from 1978, here are some of my personal favorites:

This is a puppet that you can disguise. I always wanted one. My cousin had one and it scared the crap out of me. I still wanted one. Any toy that comes with a prosthetic nose and a kid-sized cigar is mighty fine by me.

The Fisher Price Farmhouse is a classic. It was everywhere and everyone had one. I am still convinced to this day that the noise at the beginning of Prince’s “When Doves Cry” is the noise this toy makes when you open the barn door.

Best. Toy. Ever. There was a time in this country when you could get a die-cast metal truck with intricate moving parts capable of cutting, scraping, and pinching tiny fingers at every turn. Tonka trucks were indestructible. They could withstand every last bit of punishment a kid could dish out. No amount of stomping, dropping, or bleeding on them could do any harm. This was the workhorse of the toy world. Dear, sweet Tonka. How we miss your sharp metal corners and your amazing moving parts, you made us stronger as long as you didn’t kill us.

You want a handheld video game? Take yer pick. Some blipped, some bleeped, but rest assured, they all blinked.

I have no recollection of these things. I don’t know Thing One about them. But the look on my husband’s face when he saw this page in the catalog was too cute for words. Go ahead. Find a guy in his mid-thirties and show this to him. He’ll know what they are and most likely, he’ll make a great face.

Ok, Santa’s bag is empty, there’s wrapping paper everywhere and I’m covered in bows. Another successful Christmas! Hope you had fun because now I’ve got the shakes. I can feel an eBay bender coming on and it ain’t gonna be pretty. Someone, somewhere must have a set of original Fashion Plates, right? Right?

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