Christmas Balls

So Maryanne came over to my house to bask in the beauty of my Christmas decorations. Or to pick me up for dinner. Whatever. Either way, I forced her to admire my beautiful tree and oooh and aaaah over my ornaments.

Instead of appreciating them and their celebration of this holy holiday, she pointed out that my tree was rather dirty. And not dirty as in "Get out the Comet or 409," but dirty as in, you know, dirty. She looked at an ornament that is a snowman sitting, and you put him over a Christmas light so the glow from the light reflects on him. Well, the light pokes up from his lap and it does look like the snowman is a little too excited for Christmas. She next moved on to an innocent candle ornament that she swore was too "fleshy" colored and looked like a ::male appendage:: to her. Then she pointed out that this cute little mouse ornament, that my parents bought back in the good old seventies, was all about the dirty. It's supposed to be a mouse tucking another one into bed, but now whenever I look at it, all I see is Maryanne's dirty version where the one mouse is giving the other a nice holiday BJ. And I don't mean Bell Jingling. Or do I?

Damn, that might be the dirtiest thing I've ever typed.

Ok, and the last ornament is dirty. My sister decided a few years ago to buy me two dog ornaments. One is female and the other is male. Very male. And that's all I'll say.

So that is the porno-ization of my tree. Thanks Maryanne. My tree makes me ashamed. Ish.