Crapaholics Anonymous

Dear Fellow Craptarians,

I tried to quit you. Once my obligation to obsessively count my crap for class was over, I turned my back on you, albeit regretfully. As I drove away on December 23, car laden with Christmas goodies, I loitered a few minutes for some memorable snaps. They’re too good not to share. I took obscene pleasure in my discovery of this frozen chunk of crap in the alley behind Griffith’s Tavern.

Merry Christmas, Griffith's Tavern

I thought the holiday box of Cella’s chocolate covered cherries from the Rite-Aid was a particularly festive touch. In honor of the twelve stepping nature of this post, I will also confess to this: I like chocolate covered cherries. Because I like maraschino cherries. They were really my gateway drug; it was an easy transition from the cherry-laden Shirley Temples of the Kahkwa Club to Manhattans. I would be remiss in my goal to enlighten one and all about the candies of the world, even the crappy ones, if I didn’t tell you about Cella’s. The fine folks at Cella’s have been responsible for regrettable hostess gifts and awkward Valentine’s since the Wars of Northern Aggression! It’s true. Demanding cherry enrobing duties undoubtedly resulted in much needed manpower being held back from fighting Johnny Reb.

There was so much going on in the yard, I couldn’t leave. Even though I was facing six hours of heinous holiday traffic, and a pile of worried grannies on the other end, the call of the crap was strong. I felt like Santa had made a special visit to my house; he left so many goodies that I hadn’t even thought of asking for! Such as the upside down can of Air Wick air freshener, making its first appearance in the yard.

Fresh Waters flavor. What was Santa trying to tell me?

Also intriguing? The sheer volume of plastic bags hanging out in the yard. I’m pretty sure that Krampus, in contrast to Santa’s

Who invited that giant paper dog food bag? I thought this was a restricted group.

sack of elf leather, favors ratty plastic bags. Hmm. Does Krampus carry a bag? Maybe I’m thinking of Zwarte Piet. It’s hard to keep track of all the racist holiday traditions. Hopefully one of my Flemish readers will be able to clear that one up. Can you see how much crap is in that one small stretch? Also attending the bag soiree was a random wad of teal green lint, about fifteen cigarette butts, some twist ties, and a Slim Jim wrapper. I have a horrible feeling that a lot of kids in Hamdpen get mechanically separated chicken parts in their Christmas stockings. Fun fact: Slim Jims came in bacon flavor back in the 70s, when Bam Bam Bigelow was their spokesman. Not so fun fact: the Slim Jim factory exploded in 2009, killing a bunch of workers. Full disclosure: I still eat Slim Jims.

The last snap I had to add to the collection before heading home for the holidays really didn’t turn out too well, so you’ll have to use your imagination. But once again, this item was making its first appearance in the yard, so I wanted to record it for posterity’s sake.

 

Girl Scouts Gone Wild, Peanut Butter Edition

I didn’t even know we had Girl Scouts in Hampden. What are they getting merit badges in, I wonder? I’m pretty sure ecological stewardship disks aren’t getting sewn onto anybody’s sash in my neighborhood. Maybe baby stroller maintenance, or how to feed you and your baby off a welfare check and the hot foods section at Royal Farms. Mean, I know. But there’s a gaggle of junior Hampdenites screaming at each other outside my stoop right now, and I have no kindness in my heart for them. I think that’s somewhere in the twelve steps, though, so I might have to work on that one. Did I get any of the steps right, other than admitting that I am powerless to resist the lure of crap?

Now, I know you’re probably wondering where the crap tally is. I even took a pile of photos that day, thinking I would tabulate via visual documentation in between wrapping presents and making yule logs. It didn’t happen, but not because I stopped loving the crap. A lot of stuff got in the way, like a needy family, poor health, and that pesky return to PhD studies. I haven’t made an executive decision about continuing the tally, but for now, at least, I can’t be bothered. I did create a Flickr page to post the crap highlights on, though, so do take a gander as the photos go up.

Welcome back, my fellow crapaholics. See ya, wagon!

 

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