Mojo's Island Vacation Week!
Yep, Mojo's theme this week is any of those lovely tropical islands people vacation on. Not that I would know what I'm talking about. Being the proud stick-in-the-mud that she is, Mojo has never been to any of them. Yet ironically her house is filled with tourist crap like what you'll see this week. I guess there's no need to actually spend the thousands of dollars on such a vacation when you can just buy some crap on eBay and pretend you went!
Unlike the weirdos of this world who apparently like to escape the snow and the cold, Mojo has not and NEVER WILL associate tropical island paradise with Christmas. Indeed, Christmas is tailor-made for New England (where Mojo lives), wouldn't you agree? Of course you do. I mean, the snow on the evergreens, fire in the fireplace, sleighrides, cookies, ugly knobby handmade sweaters--that just doesn't jive with baking on a beach somewhere.
And yet there will always be poor misguided people making the oddest associations known to mankind. Yes, I know, sometimes when I free-associate during the course of these descriptions things can get a little loopy--like yesterday bringing up the dead body found in my parent's garage in a description for a stuffed moose wearing jams--but I am a Special Case. Besides, all I do is just kind of rant and rave about things, which is relatively harmless fun. I certainly DON'T spend thousands of dollars--neither my own nor some foolishly deluded investor's--manufacturing the crazed Frankensteinesque result of whatever odd associations I have come up with. Because despite her odd behavior and sometimes bizarre stories, there is a working brain lurking somewhere in this verbiage, a small dab of grey matter which at least strives to protect Mojo's financial assets from total ruin even if it does absolutely nothing for her social status and/or her ability to appear sane and rational in public.
Others are not as careful, not as intelligent, or simply not as sane. And while I would certainly privately question the sanity of someone who would purchase something like this--not publicly, though, because you're just a Great Person for buying this, yes indeedy!--I have even more concern for the person who would front loads 'n' loads of money manufacturing and promoting this thing in the first place. They must really believe in this product to do that, I'm thinking. Which again leads Mojo to ask: "Why?"
It is a stuffed mermaid, made of fabric with a green velvet tail and cunning little real shells to cover her naughty bits (as Monty Python used to say). She is also wearing a green Santa hat and holding what appears to be a Christmas wreath, frosted with fake snow and decorated with more tiny shells. Judging from the rather large loop of fishing line attached to her shoulders she is either meant to be a Christmas tree ornament, or she was caught by some lucky fisherman and stuffed to hang on the wall next to a swordfish. Since she's not actually mounted on a plaque, I'm guessing the former.
The problem with her being a Christmas tree ornament, as I see it, is that she's rather LARGE for an ornament. If you stretch her out, she is over 20 inches long, which for the math-impaired is well over a foot and a half and quickly approaching TWO FEET in length. Are you really going to put something that large on your tree? And THAT'S over and above the aesthetic concerns of such an action, which I won't go into because for all I know this is just what you've been looking for all these years to symbolize the birth of Baby Jesus. And who am I to question how one interprets such things? To each his own, Mojo says, right before she casually whistles and sidesteps until she is safely on the other side of the room.
One thing I will say about this mermaid--she certainly appears to have totally blissed out on Christmas spirit. Sometimes dolls or stuffed animals get stuck with the sort of expression that makes one think they haven't had a regular bowel movement in some time. (Being dolls, I suppose that's a GOOD thing, since otherwise in addition to picking up your children's toys after them you would have the added onus of picking up ... well ... YOU know ... after them as well. And it's highly doubtful you could successfully potty-train something whose head is filled with polyfill or cotton batting or straw or whathaveyou.) But this girl has that totally stoned look of someone having a really good time at Woodstock. (Oh, dear, Mojo is dating herself and not sounding at all hip and cool for today's youth, so scratch "Woodstock" and replace it with "Burning Man", assuming Burning Man still goes on once in a while. I have no idea, but I read about it on the Internet once.)
You won't catch THIS babe wishing she had legs and could be a real girl, nossirree Bob. She is Very Happy And Content with her lot in life. And if she DID have legs, I suspect you'd find her twirl-dancing at a Grateful Dead concert until she passed out. But maybe she's just high on Christmas. Yes, that's it. She's imagining all of the Tasteful Gifts Mojo's family will bestow upon her, instead of things like Giant Stuffed Christmas Mermaids. Because that's the sort of people Merpeople are. They always get a bad rap, but really they are very concerned with Mojo's welfare and should you ever cause Mojo the least harm rest assured my dear friends the Merpeople will rise up out of the sea and twirl-dance on your lawn until they throw up. And if you've ever had to clean up merpeople vomit you just KNOW you don't want it to happen to you if you care about your property values.
Since when did the Craptacular take this disgusting bodily functions turn? Because let me assure you, I mean Crap in strictly the metaphorical sense. This lovely Giant Stuffed Christmas Mermaid is NOT going to vomit, nor any other sort of thing you would much rather she did in the privacy of her own mermaid bathroom. No, she is going to hold her wreath and imagine spending her Christmas in a nice quaint New England town, far from the tourists and beach-combers and other irritating people. And instead of a beach blanket she will have her Certificate of Craptacularity to lay on as she captivates you with her mermaid charms and teaches you Dolphin Carols. (At least the parts that are not ultrasonic, since it's rather hard for humans to stay on key when they can't freakin' HEAR it. And nothing annoys a dolphin more than someone singing off-key.) So good luck, happy bidding, and if you live in a more temperate clime you might want to knit her a little ugly knobby handmade sweater, since I imagine them shells will feel pretty cold and clammy in a very short while. I'm sure she will thank you and offer you lavish mermaid presents.