I blame Hitler.
My husband, as some of you may know, is fascinated by WWII history. Minus sports and the Jesus, most of his TV-watching time is spent with the history channel and the Hitler (like High Hitler. Just say it out loud. But y'know, softly.*)
Netflix brought us the TV biopic Hitler: the Rise of Evil starring Robert Carlyle. About five minutes in, Hitler finds a small dog on a battlefield during WWI and takes it in, only to beat it nearly to death a few moments later. Yes, I know about story contrivances. I also know that, um, it's a movie. I also know this is a man murdered over six million people. I just wasn't up for gratuitous puppy kicking on my Sunday night.
This morning I crawled out of bed at 4:45am, showered, and grabbed my computer to check my email and respond to an evite for a friend's birthday, the second "Wear an Ugly Christmas Sweater" party we've been invited to. My husband muses on the backstory here, but my question is this: do these people know how much ugly Christmas sweaters cost? As SlackMom is fond of saying "bad taste costs no less" and suggestions of "just go to Goodwill" lead me to believe that none of these invitees have ever purchased a used sweater. Knitwear just soaks up environmental smells, so if your used sweater reeks of mothballs and death, well, you're probably lucky. I just can't see spending forty bucks on something that's
a) hideous
b) I'll wear once
c) ludicrous as we're not even buying each other Christmas gifts since money is tight
Hell, the last item of clothing I bought myself was my wedding dress, and it was only three Ugly Christmas Sweaters expensive. And I'll wear it again, sans irony.
Of course, I'm supposed to be picketing right now, but I'm taking a mental health day. On the way home from work, I was flipped off by a woman with a dreamcatcher hanging from her rearview mirror. Somehow, that seems about right.
*nb: While I may joke about this, I do understand the Truly Evil Nature of the Hitler. SlackMom's family was pretty much wiped out by the little man with the little mustache. While most kids grow up with stories about their relatives and the Depression, or having to walk uphill both ways to school in the snow, my stories were about the Nazis coming to get you in the middle of the night. Which is why I'm a light sleeper and I know where my valuables are at all times. A good amount of those relatives murdered were also smartasses, so it is a testament to them that I carry on the tradition.
