Okay, it's almost Craptacular time. I am considering the list for my post-holiday cleanup sale on eBay, and believe me, I have enough to last a lazy person like me several months. The last thing I need is MORE CRAP.
In fact, living in a very small rural town, Mojo must make occasional dump runs--although technically our dump is no longer a dump but a "transfer station", and everything gets dumped into variously labeled Dumpsters to be driven away and either recycled or dumped--oh, sorry, I mean "transferred"--elsewhere, like where poorer people live. Or whatever happens to it; Mojo has no say in the matter. (Once when I worked in a Very Old Library at a Very Old College, they spent a year or so removing asbestos from the building, and they had a staff meeting with an asbestos expert to allay staff fears (the actual removal process, it turns out, involved a lot of plastic sheeting and duct tape, which did NOTHING to ally Mojo's vague fears, since she was looking for something a little more high-tech), and one of the things one of Mojo's trouble-making librarian friends brought up was, "Where does the asbestos go after you remove it?" To which the asbestos expert hemmed and hawed and tried very hard to sugar-coat what they do with it. Which, rumor had it, was to truck it all down south and let some poverty-stricken Appalachian community deal with it. You'd think they'd be asked this often enough to have a good strong super-casual response to it instead of this decidedly awkward exchange (and maybe now they do), but back then Mister Asbestos Expert clearly did NOT want to talk about it.)
Anyway, like many a dump--at least what I have heard; to be honest Mojo has always been a Privileged Lass who grew up with trash pick-up so this is the only dump she has had actual experience with--they occasionally fish Useful Things things out of the dumpster and put them on display around the place. Mostly things like old bicycles or working umbrellas. I *think* this is so people can take them if they want them, but thus far in my ten years living here nothing has struck my fancy hard enough to inquire. Until the other day, when I saw a kitschy sort of sign that people use to decorate their house and express to their many visitors just how much they love them.
As a rule Mojo does not decorate her house with such signs, since she is not much of a decorator to begin with, and also because she does not like having most people over the house. Indeed, she spends the first hour or two of a visit actively sulking, until it eventually dawns on her that she can no longer do anything about the person now sitting on the couch without law enforcement getting involved. Which would just mean MORE people coming over the house.
Anyway, this sign was so tackily awful I almost picked it up and threw it in the bed of the truck. It was that PERFECT for the Craptacular. I RESTRAINED MYSELF, however. Because one of the rules of the Craptacular is, it has to be a GIFT. It can't be some mindless piece of crap I find at the dump. It has to be something someone GAVE ME. And while we can argue that this sign was a gift from the Universe, we both know Mojo's just rationalizing to bend the rules.
But it was close. Soooo close. Because this sign said--and I quote-- "Back Door Guests Are the Best".
Now, perhaps you are the innocent sort who are all like, why, that sounds just CHARMING, Mojo, what on earth could you possibly have against such a lovely sign? To which Mojo will say, uh, nothing...why don't you wait over there out of earshot for a minute while I get rid of these other, lesser people, okay? And then I turn to the rest of you and whisper, okay, Mojo has tried, REALLY HARD, and she can't POSSIBLY get her mind out of the GUTTER with this one. And if I ever go THERE with the item description, you just KNOW eBay's gonna pull the plug on my account.
Okay, the nice people can come back, now. Short answer is, Mojo didn't take the sign. So this whole discussion is moot. And no, please do NOT buy Mojo such a sign in the future. It will not be appreciated. It will just cause Mojo untold embarrassment as she tries to explain to her Favorite Mother why she's giggling like a moron every time she reads it.