Tuesday, November 29, 2011

The Elf On A Shelf is a total creeper.

I've already established in many previous posts that I suck the fun out of life.  I hate Halloween, heights, scary movies, basically anything that causes undue anxiety is just not for me.  I know you're thinking, er, what in the name of la-di-dah is remotely anxiety-provoking about the Elf on a Shelf?  It's his wee beady little eyes!  (YES!  A "So I Married An Axe Murderer" reference!  My life is complete!)

Seriously though, I can't STAND things that appear to look at you.  My aunt is an amazing seamstress, and has eleventy billion dolls in her house in order to make doll clothes which she then sells.  At least she has a reason for having those fucking dolls whose eyes open when they sit up and close when they lay down.  *shudder*  Anyway, when I would go to visit her, THE DOLL ROOM was MY ROOM, and those fucking DOLLS WATCHED ME SLEEP.  I wish I were kidding.  Granted, none of them looked like they'd been attacked with a weed whacker like Chucky, but STILL.  I don't know how I ever slept in there, since I just knew I'd be grabbed by little plastic hands in the middle of the night.  Even now, as an adult, I would love to sleep with a foot sticking out of the covers when I get hot, but YOU CAN'T LEAVE THE SANCTUARY OF THE EDGE OF THE BED.  If you want to live, that is.

In my old office, there were pictures of, well, let's just call them community VIPs.  They were the type of photos where they looked directly into the camera, so no matter where you were in the office, the PICTURES WERE WATCHING YOU.  Made you think twice about taking a ream of paper home.  I get the same feeling with the Elf on the Shelf (a shelf?  The shelf?  Whatever the fuck.  I don't know.)  I do understand that I would be the one moving the thing around the house, but what if I wasn't?!?!?? (Don't give the Hubs that much credit, he wouldn't move it, he'd totally forget.  Love him, but it's true.)  My luck I'd wake up to that thing sitting on my bed shrieking, "I'M A REAL BOY!!!"  Fuck. That.

I know people are using this instead of "Santa is watching you."  Seriously people, get your kids to listen to YOU.  YOU are their parents and authority figures, not this little plastic creeper who looks like he'll grow up to be on the sex offender registry.  And not for peeing in a park in the dark.  (If you haven't seen Horrible Bosses, you go watch it.  You go watch it right now.)

That is all.


  1. Love me some Axe Murderer (not enough to marry one) but not quite as much as this post. I'm disturbed by the dolls whose eyes open and close, but that doesn't translate to pictures.


  2. I am so much like this, too. I think it was Poltergeist, with that fucking clown, that set me off. But then I remember this Twilight Zone rerun about Talkie Tina, the doll? Do you remember that / did you ever see that? "I'm Talkie Tina, and I'm going to kill you?"
    That shit was wayyy before Chuckie.

    So yes. I still hate them. And I scare my daughter with them now, too. Because I can. And because she asks for it. Literally. She's ALWAYS all "scare me, daddy, and don't give me any of that boring zombie brain shit."

  3. WG - I want to meet the bastard who thought up that doll feature and poke him in his reproductive parts with a cattle prod. Well, I'm sure he didn't realize what he had done. Fricking Hollywood bastards.

    Shane - No, I haven't seen that Zone episode, nor will I EVER now. Thanks for making my imagination run wild in a direction that I seriously don't want it to go. AND THAT FUCKING CLOWN??? Jeebus. I'd rather build my house on an Indian burial ground and hope for the best than purchase that evil thing. ARGH!

  4. I just bought one. And now I have to find new and creative places for that bastard to sit. I'm not really sure why I bought something that created more work for me. Apparently, I am insane. It is creepy though. And Shane, that clown scared me for life. No clown dolls in my home, no thank you. Shudder.

  5. Way to go, Misty. Way. To. Go. You'll have to let me know what you guys name it. Personally, I'd go with Hannibal Lecter. At least this way, you can have some fun - on the days your kids are especially pains in the buttocks, you can freak them out with it. Like putting it in the toilet before they have their first pee, etc. We could have an annual December topic! "Elf on the Shelf - yer doin' it wrong". :)

  6. I just want to say that you are my new favorite blog just because of this post. Why do people make themselves anxious ON PURPOSE??! Because they are fucking idiots, that's why. Thanksgiving I was put in a guest bedroom with a doll. My sister thought I was mad because someone's grandmother had died in there. NO. I'm mad because there is a Madame Alexander in here that wants my kidneys in a wine sauce. I'll trade-ya the dead grandmother for this fucking doll. Take it.TAKEIT.

    You have a new fan. You had me at the SIMAAM reference. Lucky you.

  7. Thanks, WO! And yes. Anyone who thinks those effing dolls are harmless will think differently when they wake up in a bathtub full of ice, won't they!