Dec 26 2008
A Hitchcock Christmas
Honestly, I didn’t have very high expectations for this year’s Christmas. I mean, the kids always do well thanks to “Santa” and all their too- generous relatives who believe there can’t be a holiday without giant sacks of unnecessary overpriced battery operated crap.
The kids are always satisfied (much to the dismay of my overworked fingers that end the day in arthritic knots from untangling scads of packaging twist ties and severely bloodied from all the third degree cardboard cuts.)
This year most of the adults in our family opted not to exchange gifts for a variety of reasons, among them financial and practical arguments against spending unnecessarily. Some people however could not be persuaded to quash their giving natures and chose to bestow presents upon my husband and I against our will. We struggled against them, but alas they were too persistent.
My favorite among the pleasant boxes of PJs and chocolates I received was a collectible Barbie. No, I am most definitely not a fan of the doll, nor do I collect things of that nature. This particular Barbie, however, was special. To know why, you’d have to understand that 1) I have always had a lingering love for all things dark and morbid 2) I’ve been a fan of The Birds since I was about eight years old.
Yep, I mean Hitchcock’s birds. The ones that inspired this:
Excuse the weird reflection, she is, of course, still in the box she came in, propped up on my dresser and looking slightly aloof. Here, look closer…
Not exactly the expression I would’ve expected from a woman under assault by flocks of homicidal birds. More like she’s trying on a feathered hat she’s not sure goes well with her outfit, never mind the crow perched on her shoulder, or the one clinging to her skirt, obviously going for her femoral artery. You’d think the folks at Mattel would have opted for at least a scowl, or a grimace, instead she looks almost serene - completely resigned to the fact the birds are about to peck her eyes out.
I. Love. It. I really do.
The icing on the fruit cake was this bumper sticker from my husband, who after 15 years knows me pretty well.
Cause nothing says Christmas like zombies and birds out for blood.
