Spectacle of Ridiculosity

It's that time of year again when our mailboxes get as jam-packed as our faces do. It's holiday catalog time. If you so much as Google L.L. Bean to check out the latest in lesbian plaid trench coats, you will receive no less than 10 ultra-thick catalogs from said Maine outdoor retailer from November 1st until January 31st. They will tempt you with free shipping. They will simultaneously bombard your email with lusty promises of a hefty 50-70% off. You may find yourself decked out in an ensemble of head-to-toe plaid that would make even the most die-hard Melissa Etheridge fan proud. Come to my window, bitches.

Today I received 100 pages plus EACH of catalogs from Sur La Table, Femail Creations (not for lesbians, ironically..), L.L. Bean, Lands' End, Express, White House Black Market, Journeys, Fossil, Justice, Cheryl's Cookies, Mindware (nerdy kids' toy company), Brookstone, Hammacher Schlemmer, and my ultimate favorite holiday advertising porn, Williams-Sonoma. My mailbox was quivering like a 70 year-old's boner after hour five of a Cialis binge. I emptied the mother-load of this recycler's wet-dream into my arms and had to use my damn foot to open the front door. Their sheer weight rendered my arms as useless as Kim Kardashian's chastity.

Williams-Sonoma is the pinnacle of entertaining gluttony. If you wipe your ass with 5-dollar bills instead of Charmin, this is the store for you. I was initially drawn to a picture of a dirty whore of a chocolate-peppermint cake. This little bitch was 4 layers and cost a mere $99.95. For a cake. Now I am a decent baker. I probably wouldn't win in a Food TV bake-off next to Ace of Cakes but I know my way around my trusty Kitchen-Aid mixer and an arsenal of baking supplies. This peppermint chocolate treat claims is is baked at an artisan bakery in Maine with Dutch cocoa, Nielson-Masey organic vanilla, freshly churned Maine butter, and eggs from cage-free chickens. I don't care if 5 of the Duggars themselves are picking cocoa beans from a bush in South America on a church mission trip, I think a hundred bucks is a bit steep for some dessert. Throw some buttercream frosting and crushed peppermint candy on anything and you can make it look fancy. Shit, I'd eat my Uggs if you sliced them up four times and slathered them with frosting and candy.

If I had the ability to either rig the lottery or shit money, I'd join Williams-Sonoma's "Six-Months-of-Cheese Club". This is along the same lines as Clark W. Griswold's "Jelly-of-the-Month Club" but slightly classier---to the tune of $350. Now that's a lot of cheese. You can also buy meatballs, pigs in a blanket, ham, peppered beef, tamales, salami, pate, even macaroni and cheese. All of these delicacies can be bought for a price. If I was filthy rich I would certainly indulge in some of these luxurious treats. But alas, I am not loaded and though cooking is probably 17th on a list of 20 things I would rather do than check my Facebook, I can cook my own macaroni and cheese ramekins for less than $10 apiece.

Do you ever get some catalog and think #1) What the fuck IS this shit?! Or #2) How the fuck did I get on their list for this crap?? Considering how touchy everyone is about the environment and saving trees these days, they sure remain steady with their annual pummeling of advertising. I have switched to artificial trees in my two holiday rooms, I use shittier toilet paper to reduce the amount of stuff I flush down the toilet, we try to pay some bills online. But yet these catalogs still come at me like a laxative-incuded shit avalanche. If I need to buy frosted reindeer cookies or flannel-lined jeans or a Little House on the Prairie nightgown ensuring I will never, ever get laid in my life, I know where to find you. Quit catalog-raping my mailbox already. Merry Christmas.