Tag Archives: gifts

Can I get an oohrah?

 

As most of you know, my husband is a Marine. (And as I learned many moons ago, once a Marine always a Marine…. hence the is, even though he retired from the Corps years ago)

Being a Marine means being inundated with Marine Corps stuff. Newsletters, fliers, reunion notices, junk mail and catalogs… like this:

 

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Sgt. Grit appears in our mailbox on a regular basis because I made the mistake of ordering something for the husband from them online. I usually chuck it, but was bored the other day and started flipping through it.

 

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OOHRAH!!

The beloved Marine Corps grunt that I’ve never managed to perform to my husband’s satisfaction. This may have something to do with the fact that I sound more like Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman than Chesty Puller…..

 

 

And that’s Army. A big no no in this house.

(A little history below for those who care…. though my husband would tell you he’s not doing it correctly either)

 

 

The catalog has all the usual USMC geegaws and gifts…

 

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As well as those oh so subtle tee shirts young men love to wear….

 

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Thankfully my husband hates those.

He lived it, and doesn’t feel the need to advertise.

There are knives…

 

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And Ka Bar sporks.

 

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For those days at Kentucky Fried Chicken when plastic just won’t do.

 

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And now you can, for a mere $12.99

You’re welcome.

There are items for children…

 

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And good God, there are even Marine Corps gnomes.

 

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But it was the ladies section that made me choke.

Because even when I had the figure (way back when) to wear these?

No.

Just no…

 

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Epic thrift store finds.

 

I read an article the other day about the crazy things people find at thrift stores. This was right up my alley as I used to post my wackadoodle discoveries as well.

If you’ve never thrifted?

You’ve never really shopped.

I mean really…. where else can you find these treasures.

Searching for fine literature?

 

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Find it at the Thrift store.

Not being a musher, I was totally unaware sexual preference was even a factor.

Go figure.

 

When you’re in need of a box of decapitated doll heads?

 

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And let’s be honest…

Who isn’t these days?

 

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They’re at the Thrift store.

 

When you’re searching for a little extra something to compliment the dogs playing poker velvet wall hanging in your living room?

 

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You’ll find it at the Thrift store.

Shells playing poker are perfect.

 

Fido’s constant shedding driving you nuts?

 

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Thrift store to the rescue.

Beat grandma to the punch this Christmas and give her the ugly sweater.

 

Can’t find that just right gift for the dominatrix in your life?

 

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Look no more…. your local thrift store has S&M Teddy.

Her heart will melt, and then she’ll whip heart shaped cuts on your thighs.

It’s a win win.

 

And speaking of gifts…

Those hard to buy for people?

They’d love a vomit clock from the Thrift store.

 

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Yes, that was the description the person who found it gave in the article.

Vomit clock.

I’m hoping  (really, really hoping)  that it’s just heavily shellacked pebbles in a putrid pink hue.

But hey, it came from a thrift store….

Anything’s possible.

 

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Even better than rocks…

 

I’ve been known to give some interesting birthdays gifts in my time.

Some elicit laughter, some tears….

Some? Downright befuddlement.

It’s all good.

In the past few years, I’ve gifted my husband with experiences as well as tangible items.

2014 was a beer making lesson.

 

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Friends and family joined us for what I thought would be a laugh a minute celebration…

 

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Ah, look at those happy faces.

(Word of warning –  if you’re thinking about trying it? There’s a lot more to beer than drinking. And I don’t recommend any of it.)

Beer drinking? Fun!

Beer making?

 

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Not so much.

It’s a long involved process…. that I completely stopped caring about two hours in.

 

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Poor husband.

Look at him… he had his tasting glass ready and it wasn’t anywhere near finished.

Birthday experience gift rating on a scale of 1 to 10?

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Last year I nailed it with a School of Falconry class.

This was fabulous and we both enjoyed it immensely.

 

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Husband got up close and personal with a Harris Hawk and a Peregrine Falcon.

And they were both beautiful creatures.

 

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Learning to handle them can be challenging.

 

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As well as a little intimidating.

Of course, they were nothing compared to the instructor.

 

 

She was downright terrifying.

(I think the husband had flashbacks to boot camp and reverted to a quivering PFC before my eyes.)

But baggie of dead quails aside?

 

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An awesome day.

Birthday experience gift rating?

A definite 10!

 

So this year, along with the rock and other assorted presents…

I gave him a helicopter.

 

 

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Okay, calm down.

Those babies go for $425,000.

I gave him the experience of learning how to fly a helicopter.

Half an hour class instruction, half an hour flying time with 2 guests.

I’m not sure when we’ll do it, most likely after the weather warms up.

But I’m guessing it’s going to be a good one!

Assuming we don’t die in a flaming fireball of a crash…

That’s bound to reduce the rating.

 

 

 

Because I’m that kind of wife.

 

My husband recently had a birthday.

 

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Yes.

I’m that kind of wife as well, but I digress.

Along with some very nice, serious gifts…

I ordered him something from Amazon.

 

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The box it came in was rather disappointing.

But nothing could dampen the sheer joy I felt at giving him….

A rock.

 

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Yes, Cindy.

I did.

I bought him a rock…

 

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A rock!

Or rather, a solid metal rock replica.

 

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Because after our recent vacation in Arizona, and all the amazing rocks we saw out there… ( did I tell you about that? I seem to remember some subtle mentioning of rocks) …. I had to present my beloved with his very own rock (replica).

And may I just say?

Bravo Amazon.

 

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I don’t know what kind of algorithm you’re running, but as I was searching the mystery/thriller book section?

You recommended a rock.

Talk about knowing your audience.

 

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And so am I.

I never knew Jeff Bezos had time to read my blog.

 

 

 

 

The after Christmas Christmas… and flying poop.

 

Saturday night found us at our friend’s house… she of the annual weirdo Xmas tree.

 

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By the time we arrived, this year’s forest had sprouted a cat.

 

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There was a small Seussian tree in the dining room…

 

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And shrub Santas by her back door.

 

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The Santas made me smile..

 

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The chipped paint on the steps made me twitch.  (Yes, I literally twitched. The husband had to ask if I was alright.)  **Note to self – buy friend a gallon of paint for her birthday next month**

We drank, had dinner, drank, and exchanged gifts a week late.

 

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Naturally, the exchange made us laugh.

One of my gifts to her is on the left. A crazy lace agate pendant…

 

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One of her gifts to me? On the right….. a crazy lace agate pendant.

This is what happens when you know your friends too well.

And if that wasn’t bad enough?

I gave her husband the new Game of Thrones book…..

 

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Which she then gave to me.

(This was probably funnier after the 3 margaritas and 1 raspberry martini I had, but you get the idea.)

And then….

Then my husband opened one of his gifts.

And I almost fell off the chair.

Remember my recent blog about poop products?

Oh, yes…

 

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We are now the envy of our neighbors and have a Hovering Poop drone of our very own.

 

 

Don’t be jealous.

You know there will be a blog totally devoted to this very soon, and I will share the joy.

Because really.

How can I not?

 

 

Better late than never….

The wonderful thing about being sick at Christmas is that I got an extra week until our annual gift exchange party with friends. And since the husband had been sick the week before me, I really needed the extra time.

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Because we all know the man cold is far more severe than anything women experience. When he got sick? I cooked and cleaned and took care of him. When I got sick? I cooked and cleaned and took care of myself..  funny how that works.

So we’re having our gift exchange party tonight and I just finished wrapping. And damn, if there’s anyone who can make a bigger mess putting paper and ribbons on boxes, I don’t want to meet them.

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When I wrap? I spread…

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And it floats from table to chair to floor to counter to stove and out into the hall.  Naturally, everything  (including me)  is covered in glitter. We’ll be picking that crap out of our pork chops for months to come….

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Most of the presents turned out well.

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(Yes, those are wine bottles… on a tray… on top of my album collection… in my office. Don’t judge. There’s not a liquor cabinet built that can hold my ever expanding stash.)

And now, a word.

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Or to be more exact, a lot of very colorful words every time I tried to peel that little paper backing to reveal the sticky part of a bow.

May I just say… WTF?

It’s like my Band Aid nightmare all over again…. except there’s no blood, and I’m not doing it one handed. Okay, it’s nothing like the Band Aids… but it’s still annoying as hell and the people that produce those things without leaving a pull tab or a flipped corner to grab onto need to suffer some serious consequences.

Drawn and quartered? Maybe…

Flayed alive? Perhaps…

Locked in an elevator with a non stop loop of Justin Bieber’s greatest hits blasting through the speakers? Now we’re talking!

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Let’s talk about poop.

 

( Bet you’re wishing I was still on vacation, eh?)

I was Christmas shopping with a friend the other day and we noticed a disturbing trend…

 

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I passed off the first sighting of a poop themed gift as a fluke.

 

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But then I saw this…

 

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And this.

 

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And while I admit a hovering pile of poop drone might be inventive, even slightly creative….. I can’t honestly say I want one flying overhead anytime soon.

I also do not want to stack, or write with poop.

 

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And if that just wasn’t enough poop to satisfy you…

How about some pink girly poop?

 

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Made all the more disturbing by the cryptic packaging.

What the hell is going on there….

Is that a mouth with teeth?

Are you supposed to chew the poop?

Or is the poop coming out of the nostrils?

 

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Right.

And mind you these were not seen in toy stores, where at least a fondness for poop could be explained….but in adult sections of book stores and various department stores in the mall.

Anyway you look at it, it’s disgusting. Or at the very least… childishly stupid. I gave up potty humor at age 4, you should too.

I know the world may seem like it’s going down the toilet lately, but this is one gift giving idea I hope gets flushed.