Monday, 8 December 2008

OMG it's Advent Competition Time!

So moments ago I was crouched next to the bin eating flan directly from the paper bag (so far, so not astonishing) when I was hit by a depressing little pellet of self-knowledge. I am more stupid than a lab rat. In response to painful stimulus, the lab rat LEARNS to avoid the thing that causes pain. I, on the other hand, appear not to have learnt from the last five thousand occasions that a lunch of snack sized chocolate bars and M&Ms leads to pulsing brain irritation, inability to cope with daily life and lots of shouting at children. And yet, here I am, doing it again. I have just told Lashes he is "taking the piss" in a shouty, Alan Sugar fashion in relation to homework. Either I am a psychotic bitch, or I am hypoglycaemic. Either way, this would make me the incredibly irritating lab rat who screws with the data due to its unbelievable stupidity. The researchers would be narrowing their eyes at me and wondering about the ethical problems feeding me to the lab python would create.


Moving on! To! The Belgian Waffle Advent Calendar Super Christmas Competition! Drumroll please.


Behold, feast your bloodshot eyes on the wonder of the Belgian Waffle Advent Calendar!






Shall we take a closer look at these twenty four days of seasonal joy I have prepared for you? Yes. I think we should.







No Belgian advent calendar would be complete without beer. Your very own bottle of Hoegaarden. All yours.









The choc toffees of death. Difficult guest? Lost for words? Catatonic with seasonal depression? Pop one of these in your mouth and have a cast iron excuse for your silence.







St Nicolas shaped speculoos biscuits, eye drops, medication for stomach cramps, and a giant bar of chocolate called "Big Nuts". All for you, sweet reader.






In the immortal words of Marcus Aurelius, or possibly Confucius, few holiday situations cannot be improved with judicious use of antibacterial gel and toothpicks.






A hand-crafted miniature Atomium, forged from the finest polyurethane.








"Extra fine" rubber gloves and Migraleve. Truly a winning combination (menacing shadow not included)!




The icing on the cake! Rewarding you for your loyalty to the Waffle calendar throughout the festive season, St Nicolas is on hand to present you with this treat sized bottle of extremely cheap gin (note the cunning similarity of "Gibson's" and "Gordon's". Clever, Belgian cheap gin manufacturers. I salute you).



All this, friends, and much MUCH more (tortoise popsicle anyone?). Also, the cloth calendar type thing comes from Marimekko so it's posh and that. This is a genuine prize, worth literally ones of Euros. A once in a lifetime opportunity for a little slice of Belgium.


I know you are all breathless with anticipation, dying to find out how to get your hands on the unique, hand-picked delights of the calendar. The answer, internet, is very simple. Tell me your worst Christmas story. Bad gifts, bad relatives, implausible accidents? Pet disasters? Sexual or social misdemeanours? Beheaded turkeys running awild round your backyard? Drop your seasonal high jinks into the comments box, or send your story to the waffle mail. The one that makes me laugh or gasp hardest wins the whole damn lot. Yes! The winner takes all. The loser might get some chocolate or an atomium. OR NOT. I'm arbitrary like that.


Closing date for entries, let's say this Friday 12 December so the winner has a chance of sneaking his, or much more likely, her, booty past Belgian customs in time for Christmas. What are you waiting for? There's cheap gin up for grabs! Go!

27 comments:

Red Shoes said...

Hahahahahaha....hahahahahaha... gasp...wheeze....GASP...HAHAHAHHAHA!

You see why I can't blog (I did just create one JustMe, but I almost certainly refuse to post to it because you are entirely NOT the boss of me, and also because the name will not work, it won't it won't) ... what was I saying? Oh yes, you see why I cannot blog?? Because Jaywalker is my hero, and my perfectionist tendencies are far too ingrained and severe to let me ever try to compete with such a perfectly AMAZING post such as this one. Your Advent Calendar is amazing, JW. AMAZING. Soo super fantastic. *sigh*

justme said...

Hooray for the advent callender, and hooray for the Red Shoes Blog!
Good things.
And since I have had SUCH a bad day (work) I need a laugh......
I wont even attempt to win the prize though......but will enjoy other witty contributions. Anyway, I suspect THIS may be my worse xmas ever and I cant write about that by the 12th! It is 'submica', my word verification.....

Grit said...

my worst christmas ever was the one where uncle eff, the church organist who usually locked himself in the attic, declared at 1am he was just popping out to the gay massage parlour in town, so leave the door unlocked. this was followed by the arrival of aunty vee, the evangelical harp seller from wales, who had come to steal some more of the furniture. my mother had died seven months before, my mother in law ten months before, the triplets were aged under two and no-one had thought of buying any drink for christmas or new year. if this wasn't enough, my husband had embarked upon celibacy. we were on the verge of divorce and had i been sane i would have attempted suicide.

if i could make this up i would have added something bizarre, like this co-incided with the time we were infested with rats. only that was six months before.

but i do not deserve to win, because dear jaywalker, this tale is not funny, but painfully and oh so true and sad, sad, sad.

expateek said...

You have extremely elegant hands with lovely long fingers. Perhaps a career as a hand model after you give up The Law?

lisa in san diego said...

you are awesome in your complete insanity.

nothing in my christmas history will get me anywhere near the top 25, so i'm not even going to try. i'm just going to sit back and await the hilarity.

katyboo1 said...

Hmmm! I'm sure I have some evil christmas stories somewhere. I must ferret about in my tiny brain and dredge them up for your delight and delectation. But now it is far too late and I have just watched six episodes of Little Dorrit back to back. My brain is fried and I must go and lie down.

I will be back.

Potty Mummy said...

OK, weirdly I thought the same thing about your hands as Expateek (what's going on with that?), and here's my story. Aged 15, sitting round the Christmas lunch table with the entire family, including very very VERY religious and stuff grandparents. My sister was regaling us with a tale of a schoolfriend who was being mean about a mutual acquaintance's reputation (are you still awake?). On hearing this, thinking I was Oh-so-sophisticated, I responded "Well, X is hardly virginal herself, is she?" At least, that's what I meant to say. What I ACTUALLY said was "Well, X is hardly vaginal herself, is she?"

I still remember the silence now.

ptooie said...

We had a massive ice storm just before Christmas 4 years ago. Power at my house was out for a week, which covered Christmas completely. My mother's house, where festivities are normally held, was on something like day 4 of no power (on day 1, they lived BETWEEN "Road Closed" signs due to tree branches down). So on the 24th, mother realized that though her house was decorated with not 1 but 2 trees, and she had a fireplace to provide some warmth, she had no power to run her well pump and therefore no water to flush toilets. So Christmas was held at my aunt's house and my mother was depressed because my aunt had not put up a single tree.
The kicker to all this is guess what we did at night trying to stay warm... eldest daughter was born 9 months later. Stupid ice storm!

ptooie said...

sorry, 'gabrat' is just too good a word to pass up! (last one was 'micil', which sounds like it may be the next big migraine medicine)

expateek said...

I was inspired and put my best=worst xmas on my blog. Read it and weep.

Or at least know what a Scrooge I can be.

Anonymous said...

i don't want to win anything but i think i have a hard-to-top, not making this up crappy christmas story. male relative who will molest you if he gets a chance plus damn "chatty cathy" doll for christmas whose speaking voice gets stuck on "sigh, i love you"...i mean....

Fat Controller said...

No fair! I've only ever had sane, normal, boring christmasses. Now I'll never get my hands on Big Nuts.

I'll just have to make do with Sor-bits, Pong, Spunk, or import some Plopp from Sweden

Jaywalker said...

Some good early entries people!

Grit - I'm entering you anyway on the strength of the harp selling, furniture stealing aunt (I wish I could blog about mine, but they know about this site). The gin might help with the memories.

PM - oooh. Just, oooh.

Ptooie - yours sounds coooold.

Anon - I think I need a little more detail - how OLD were you?

Expateek - I am thinking standards of cleanliness for hand models might be a bit beyond me. But thank you. Your story is great. Ha! Cancelled.

emily said...

hmmm... i am skiving from my hideous amount of work to do to de-lurk again and let you know about my worst chrsitmas... but only because the advent calender made me laugh for ages!

Ok, we have several elements here- we have the falling out with the parents over stomach piercing (thank god they dont and never will know about the tattoo!), therefore not speaking over the holidays...
we have the decision to spend christmas with the boyfriend and his scary parents (very rich, very posh)
we then have the power cut (due to the ridiculous amount of snow)
add to that the boyfriend working christmas day and his parents being stuck at their friends because of the stupid snow....so christmas day alone..
and then to top it all off, while looking for candles to light, the finding of a huuuge stack of naked and semi naked pictures of his ex...
and then the seasonal gift of a break up :)

God i sound so pathetic! Have got over it now, but god it was an awful christmas!

G said...

A mere two days ago I received the worst christmas present yet. Yes, worse even than the limited edition Marilyn Monroe wall plates that my mother gave me 10 years ago.

This year, my sister has given me an Adidas men's perfume box set. Complete with deoderant, shower gel and aftershave. She wasn't even being ironic.

It would seem that the person with whom I have the closest genetic match in the entire world has decided that I am a cunt.

katyboo1 said...

I realise my christmases have been fairly tame in comparison to harpists and mad furniture stealing aunties.

There was the year I woke up at three to hear a grinding/swishing noise coming from downstairs. I went to investigate and found that the dishwasher had exploded all over my mother's kitchen floor and we were a foot underwater. That was quite exciting.

Last year I set fire to my ceiling by accidentally flambeeing my roasties when I left too much water in the pan and tossed the too wet spuds into the boiling hot fat. That was also quite exciting. I had to sit down after I'd put it all out.

Then there was the year Tilly refused to wear clothes at all and spent the whole meal naked except for a paper hat, perched on a stool, scowling and eating sausages.

Or the year when my Auntie fulfilled all our long felt wants for Christmas by giving us boxes with the word want on, filled with long rolls of felt.

mere vignettes. I surrender. Christmas is obviously the one time of year when my insane family actually make a bit of an effort.
Or the one where

katyboo1 said...

apologies for my poor editing of the previous post.

I'll get me coat...

Jaywalker said...

G - ah, I feel your pain. This often happens when my father's gift to me is something other than bank notes.

Katyboo - naked hat sausage girl would have totally made a few of my Christmases. Fingers spent last Christmas dressed as "Le roi des citrouilles" (king of pumpkins).

Mr Farty said...

My worst Xmas is ferli tame by comparison, according to your WV, but it also involves a stomach piercing.

Two days before Xmas, Mrs F started complaining about chest pains, so the doctor whipped her into hospital where they ran some tests and told her she had a blood clot on the lung or something, I disremember the details as I was HUNGRY at the time.
So they stuck a fucking great needle into her tummy and pumped her full of rat poison, er, warfarin, as you do, to thin her blood and break up the clot. Meh.
The important thing is, not only did we have to spend Xmas Day in hospital, but I had to iron my OWN shirts while she was in there. Of course once she discovered I could tell the flat part of the iron from the handle bit, I was lumped with doing my shirts EVERY WEEK!
Sob.

siddalee said...

When I was four my daddy came home late, late on Christmas Eve and was very drunk (detail: my parents are Mormon and Mormons aren't supposed to drink). After yelling and screaming my mommy put on her coat, said she was going to lay down on the railroad tracks and left the house. Shall I hand you a tissue? Remedy - possibly cheap Gin?

Jaywalker said...

Emily - the naked pics of the ex are definitely a nice touch. I like.

Mr F - How terribly inconsiderate of her! Tsk. Poor wretched Farty.

Siddalee - Oh! It's beautiful! Like something out of a Country and Western song!

Completely Alienne said...

I can't possibly complete with these, my christmasses have all been pretty normal and boring. The worst I can remember was one at my in laws where everyone else was paralytic by the time we had dinner so by 9pm I was the only person in the house still awake, but it pales into insignificance compared to some of these. I shall get huge amounts of vicarious amusement from reading them though!

Anonymous said...

I don't have a good story, but I do have the opposite side to Emily's tale. (Emily I really do feel for you)
I was about 17 and my boyfriend came to MY posh parents for Xmas. I hadn't seen him for months since he was at University in Northern Scotland and spent his holidays doing weird things with the Territorial Army. He turned up on the doorstep with no hair due to some laddish high-jinks the previous weekend and was totally full of how amazing it was that he got pissed all the time with the lads.
I barely recognised him from the guy I knew the year before at sixth form.
I feel bad now, but at the time he had to go through Xmas eve with me being pretty horrible about his current life.
Then, on Xmas day, I should have worked a few hours as a nurse in an old people's home (I was 16 and earning extra cash), before rescuing him from my family in the afternoon.
But due to being the youngest and crappest member of staff, everyone swapped their shifts round and I found I was working double shifts all day. Administering enemas and clearing catheters from mad old ladies who were trying to escape.

He, meanwhile, had a much worse deal, having to spend the whole day with my Mum bossing him about and making him put up the Christmas lights, help with the cleaning and do all the odd jobs around the house.
Then when I came home I dumped him. Well, if we're completely honest, I didn't have to dump him. It was obviously going really badly on both sides.
But he still had to wait two days until his Dad came to pick him up.
It was shit.

Jaywalker said...

Anon - Ow. The bedpans were definitely the better deal.

emily said...

awww, anonymous - thank you...

i do rather feel for both yourself and your poor boyfriend from that tale.

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