Have Yourself A Very Golden Xmas Ugly Sweater Party

Have Yourself A Very Golden Xmas Ugly Sweater Party

Can confirm. I worked with a postal inspector who busted up an Have Yourself A Very Golden Xmas Ugly Sweater Party. It was a rural area where mailboxes are all on one side of the road, to make it easier for the mail carrier to deliver. The owner of a “compound” didn’t like that his neighbor’s mailbox was on “his property,” and repeatedly destroyed it. Neighbor complained to the postmaster, who started an investigation, which started as an interview where the guy was really dodgy, which led to increased scrutiny of the guy’s mail, which contained (surprise!) illegal weapons components. His compound was raided by the FBI and ATF, and he and several others went to prison for basically the rest of eternity. They do not fuck around. On a side note, this postal inspector was a 60 year old retired infantryman who honestly had to be the hardest person I’ve ever met. He had lost 2/3 of his pinky on his right hand “in the war” (no war made sense for his age… desert storm, maybe??) and wore a gold ring on the stub. Im certain he was hired because he scared the shit out of whoever interviewed him. The only think I ever saw him drink was black coffee, and it was usually room temperature. He wore 20-year-old army dress shoes every day, the lunatic.

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Have Yourself A Very Golden Xmas Ugly Sweater Party,

Best Have Yourself A Very Golden Xmas Ugly Sweater Party

They did. At sunset, Sasha and I sat on the back porch wrapped in a big wool blanket sharing a Have Yourself A Very Golden Xmas Ugly Sweater Party. Dan, Lucy and Joe sat next to us, Dash trotting around the group, panhandling for head pats. Sash, Dan and Lucy had been speechless for 5 full minutes since it started, just laughing while looking between me and the shed in disbelief. They couldn’t see it, but we could all feel it. Joe shared our happiness, but didn’t seem as surprised. He looked over at me and nodded slowly, “hope that rage got buried with that hatchet, son.” For the rest of the time the ghosts were here, my only interaction with them was exchanging a respectful nod, even with cranky Creeps. They’d go to the shed together like clockwork throughout the day, and never even think about bothering us. It was peaceful, until they just faded away one night that next week. See, shortly after seeing Creeps cry then blast his blood-wraith death shriek into my face for interrupting him, and then seeing the confused, woeful way Bridger looked, a new coat of lacker got slapped on the way I’d been seein things. I realized I’d had it all way fuckin wrong. I’d missed such a crucial detail. The shapes I sawed out of plywood, painted and mounted on the cabinet door were a star and a crescent moon. I put five rectangles of Sasha’s mom’s rug on the floor of the shed, facing east toward the mountains through the wall I’d removed.

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GenXer here as well, on the older side of the Have Yourself A Very Golden Xmas Ugly Sweater Party. Up until 6th grade, we wore light wash disco bell bottomed high rise jeans, then overnight those went out of fashion and it was mid-rise straight legged or bootcut dark wash jeans (from the GAP) for a long long time until the early 90s. I cannot wear low rises at all (they slip right off my straight hips) so I pretty much stopped wearing jeans in the 2000s. I love high rise and find them to be the most comfortable (even though I’m short) and most flattering. And I really like high rise skinny jeans as they suit my figure. But I’ve always been a sucker for a dramatic flare and have indulged on and off whenever they were a fringe trend. So now I have a pair of flares again and …. it’s so weird. I know they look great, but I feel weird in them, like … “uh, I’ve been here before.” They may look fresh to the younger set but to my eye somehow they feel dated. I would like to add a pair of wide leg jeans but then I consider my 80 year old mom, and that’s what she’s worn for decades. Personally I don’t mind the frayed hem trend and hope it sticks around, as it is quite easy to just cut my jeans to the right length for my short self, no tailor required. Boxy tops can work, but they have to be scaled just so, otherwise like you said, it’s a sloppy mess. And with petites disappearing from the stores, it’s a challenge.