Gift Swap of Horror - 2013: At Least the Food Was Good

You know how sometimes, no matter how much you like all your friends, no matter how great they are and no matter how many wonderful things you do with them, sometimes you want to install a huge moat around your home and fill it with fire-breathing, jet-propelled sharks with freakin' laser beams on their heads so your friends cannot come anywhere near your house?

I feel that way about all my friends every year at the Annual Gift Swap of Horror. I know they feel the same way about me, so it all evens out. I'm sure that we can all be friends again someday. After the pain has passed.

A typical greeting, when people arrive for The Swap goes like this:

"Hi. Come on in. I'm so happy to see you. For now."
"Thanks. We brought some delicious food. It's good to see you, too. For now."

Because we know that, no matter how happy we are to see one another, within a few hours, we will be calling unholy plagues down upon one another for the horrible art we inflict on one another.

For those of you unfamiliar with The Swap, you can click here to learn of its shadowy origins because I don't want to have to write that all over again every year.

We eat and drink and chat amiably, but throughout the evening, there is an underlying current of apprehension and suspicion bordering on animosity. It is nearly palpable at times. You see people taking furtive glances at the pile of gifts, making mental calculations about how much horror each package can contain and offering up silent prayers to the gods of good fortune that they do not get stuck with that one. 

Each year at the swap, there is a that one. That gift that is so large, or so awkwardly wrapped, or so asymmetrical and ominous looking that people shudder involuntarily upon beholding it.

This year there were two gifts that fell under that heading.

One was the gift brought by Tim and Katie. It was obviously a triptych, a set of three, identically wrapped items, festively bound in a lively, hot-pink ribbon that assuredly belied the ugliness beneath. Each piece was nearly 4 feet tall and two feet wide, meaning that whoever walked away with it was looking at covering a lot of wall space in his home.

The second one was the awkward bundle that Ben and Ann both lugged into the house and set down with a thud that shook the living room. It appeared to be a wrapped plastic storage bin large enough  to hold the remains of a moose that you ran through a blender. The fact that the gift needed that sort of containment hinted toward something dire, indeed.

After the eating and the drinking and the stealthy inspection of the gifts, it was time for the drawing.

Names were drawn, fates were sealed, lives were ruined.

If pictures are worth a thousand words, I'll save myself a lot of writing here by simply getting it over with.

Ben and Ann drew our name and will be spending the next year living with this lovely portrait. Ben is laughing to hide his broken heart. You can see the joy that it has already brought to his entire family. His son, Caleb is not in the picture because he was in the kitchen, washing his eyes with steel wool.

We were next. The Kelley family had the good fortune to draw Tim & Katie's name. The one attached to 2,460 square inches of ugliness, spread over three tasteful panels.

Although the photo does not show it well, the dark gray band running throughout the piece is actually raised and textured so even if I am struck blind over the course of the next year, this piece can still make me unhappy with its awful tactile unpleasantness. Please feel free to drop by and feel it anytime you'd like.

Naturally, I was delighted to know that Tim and Katie would be the next ones to suffer.

And suffer they will.

They were sentenced to the gift brought by Ryan and Nicole, two relative newcomers to The Swap. Typically, us old hands love newcomers because they just don't get it. They will arrive with some mildly tacky bauble and leave, crushed beneath a breathtakingly awful, life-altering, steaming slab of horror. It's delightful to actually watch their will to live leave them.

No so with Nicole and Ryan. They did very well last year and eclipsed themselves this year with a brilliant piece that is in such staggeringly poor taste that Ryan actually apologized to the group in advance of it being opened.

Of course, we were giddy with anticipation as Katie opened the package to reveal...

A certificate of authenticity certifying the authenticity of this limited edition, genuine faux-metal commemorative bust of Princess Diana, tastefully displayed in a handsome, certified, authentic frame.

Please take a moment to contemplate the true, tasteless unpleasantness of this piece.

But take heart in the fact that it IS authentic and limited to 8,254,775 pieces.

And now, perhaps a moment of silence for Katie and Tim, who will be looking at that every day for the next year or so.

And so, it was time for Ryan and Nicole. Still buoyant from his recent destruction of Tim and Katie, Ryan jumped into the fray with an admirable, manful cheeriness that was richly rewarded with Julie and Scott's contribution.

An exquisite picture of Snoopy, hand-painted on the finest imported Mexican black velvet. Although it came with no certificate of authenticity, the words "Hecho en Mexico" stamped into the frame attest to the fine craftsmanship of this piece.

Classy and whimsical, all at once. It speaks to the very depths of the soul, screaming, "NOOOOOOOO!"

This is Julie and Scott's second piece on black velvet, hinting to the fact that they must have a secret supplier of paintings on black velvet. Scott, it is rumored, may actually be a lieutenant in the dreaded Mexican Pinturas de Terciopelo Negro Cartel.

Throughout all this, Julie and Scott sat stoically, alternately glad that they had not gotten Tim and Katie's triptych and deeply morose about the fact that they had drawn Ben and Ann's bucket o' love.

Scott approached the container bravely, like any good Mexican Painting Cartel member would. With Julie at his side, they opened it

to reveal

an authentic (although non-certified), wooden beaver, lovingly hand-carved with a chainsaw by some master artisan.

Julie is thinking of how she can convince the members of Scott's cartel to have the beaver get "lost" in a "fire" that doesn't look too suspicious.

Note the attention to detail and almost lifelike texture on the tail. Not to mention the eyes, which seem to look directly into your soul as it contemplates how best to kill you while you sleep so it can build a dam with your still-warm bones.

Ryan suggested that the beaver be named Justin and, no matter what Scott and Julie might say, that is the beaver's name. Justin Beaver.

After that, there was nothing much more to say.

Former friends sullenly packed up and trudged out to their cars to head home to begin recovering so they can spend another year scouring the earth, searching for a gift for next year.

Another Year of Asthetic Monstrosities. Now, Featuring Nachos and Miracles!

On the plus side, there were nachos.
And Mexican dip.
And empanadas.
And beans and rice.
And Mexican mac & cheese.
And rich, aromatic gas produced by the Mexican food.

And, possibly a stunning miracle. 

On the down side, there was this.

And this.

Last Friday, several of my boldest and most self-destructive friends gathered at our house to engage in a yearly ritual of self-induced suffering. The Gift Swap of Horror. Click on that link if you are feeling a desperate urge to learn the history of this sacred event. (The link takes you to another blog post, but it also has pictures, so it's really not a good way to escape the horror.)

The Gift Swap of Horror has developed and changed only slightly over the years. It has reduced friends to tears. It has made others laugh until they lost control of their sphincters. It has cost me some dear friends; though, in retrospect, that might also have been directly related to the loss of sphincter control.

This year, we gladly welcomed new friends to The Swap. 

Ryan and Nichole.
See how happy they look?

That's because they hadn't received their gift yet.

We, the original members of this happy crew who have been swapping gifts and causing each other to suffer for more than a decade, love it when new people join our swap.

Because new people don't get it.

We warn them; oh yes we do. But still, they don't get it.
We tell them all about the swap, explaining in graphic detail gifts from past swaps that were so horrible that to describe them here would cause you permanent mental harm.
And still these people want to play.
And they come to the swap sniggering slyly and chuckling about the gift they have brought, never suspecting that when the gifts are actually exchanged, they will be reduced to sobbing, helpless shadows of their former selves.

The new people tend to bring a gift that, at worst, might be described as "sort of tacky".
And they leave with a four foot poster of Elvis shellacked onto a cross-section of pine tree.

My friends Jay and Cris come to mind as perfect examples. Jay and Cris are both smart and fun and have excellent taste in everything. They thought our swap would be fun. We warned them against it.

"Jay. Cris," we plead. "We really like you guys. Save yourselves! Don't do it! It will ruin your lives!"

We say things like that to make them extra curious. Just to make sure they play. Because we know that they will suffer greatly. And when you play The Swap, you want people to suffer.

Jay and Cris ignored us and showed up at The Swap with a small soap dispenser that, while ugly, somewhat paled in comparison to the horrifying 2 foot tall light-up ceramic witch head that they went home with. I cannot even attach a picture, because it was so ugly, it did not show up on film.

Jay and Cris told us later that Cris spent much of their ride back home to North Carolina sobbing and weeping and lamenting the fact that she had ever met us.

The suffering of newbies is an integral part of the game, however, as it toughens them and makes them hungry for revenge.  Jay and Cris, for example showed up the next year driving a pick up truck with the entire bed shrouded in a tarp.

Everyone watching their arrival wept with fear. Then they got out of the truck carrying a tiny gift bag. And we laughed. "They didn't learn," we whispered amongst ourselves.

Kerri and I drew their names that year and Jay handed us the tiny gift bag.

"Ha, ha," I chuckled, reaching into the bag. "We all thought that your gift was taking up the whole back of the pick up. Boy, were we scared for a minute."

"I'll bet," Jay said, smiling brightly as I removed a photograph of 6 hideous purple, teal, and black velour dining room chairs from the bag. "The chairs are in the back of the truck. You want some help getting them in the house?"

And thus, they were avenged.

And this year, Ryan and Nichole stepped into the fray and, much to our bitter disappointment, proved themselves worthy of playing.

Julie, one of the old timers, suggested that newbies, on their first swap, be made to receive a gift without giving one. The executive council of elders held a high level secret meeting on the subject and decided that it was cruel and unusual and we really liked the idea.

Eventually, it was decided that newbie gifts were a sought after commodity and we would only be hurting ourselves by not letting them contribute.

The night was a festive combination of events. It was a The Gift Swap. It was also my wife Kerri's birthday. Plus, everybody brought Mexican food so guests could go home with a horrible gift and horrible gas. It added a festive olfactory element to The Swap.

Once everyone had eaten and we had sung "Happy Birthday" to Kerri a half dozen times, because she hates being sung to, it was time for the gifts.

First, some before pictures.

Ben and Ann. Happy (but nervous).

Tim and Katie. Happy (but equally nervous).

Scott and Julie (Julie offering a silent prayer for mercy from The Swap gods).

Caleb, Rayla, Alex, and Tori. (Couldn't care less about the pain the adults are inflicting on one another).

Kerri and me (putting up a false show of carefree bravado–inside, we are weeping).

The gifts, guarded by Caleb, lest, thought their collective powers of evil, they should try to escape.

And then The Swap began.

Ryan and Nichole, being newbies, were allowed to go first. They were delighted with their gift, brought by Tim and Katie.

Seeing one small corner of her gift, Nichole searches futilely for a barf bucket.

Another show of false bravado.

Behold its awe-inspiring beauty.

Nichole and Ryan were deeply awed by the transcendent beauty of their gift, a gilded, three dimensional scene of the last supper, backed with a mirror so you can always see your own look of horror when gazing upon it. In fact, their real gift didn't come until a day or so after The Swap.
Ryan and Nichole are serious mountain climbing enthusiasts (nuts). They had attempted to bag their last 4,000 footer twice before The Swap, failing both times.

After The Swap, they successfully summited Owl's Head.

Coincidence?

I think not.

They just couldn't wait to return home and continue staring at their gift.

Scott is speechless with joy. Julie, however, has much to say about their new little friend. None of it printable here.

Next up, Julie and Scott unwrapped their gift, brought by Ben and Ann. The sad-eyed embroidered bird will most certainly warm their hearts on the coldest January days.

Just before Katie burst into tears, fearing for her safety.

Tim and Katie were next. Their gift, thoughtfully supplied by Julie and Scott, was charming and creepy in equal measure.

Katie uses her gift to hide her tears of anguish.

A bargain at 50 cents.

His expression seems to say, "At night, I will come to life and kill you."

These delightful, hand made faces, framed under plastic wrap to keep them fresh, will likely come to life at night and steal Tim and Katie's souls.

Or their wallets.

Or both.

Ben and Ann were next, with our gift. They were giddy with anticipation.

Until they saw the turquoise ceramic kangaroo who will be sharing their home with them until next year.

Ann is considering using it as a decorative toilet paper holder next to the toilet.
Ben is considering using it as a toilet.

Kerri and I were next. We were delighted to have drawn Ryan and Nichole's names. Because they were the newbies. Until we unwrapped their gift.

Kerri briefly loses control of her face upon witnessing the horror of The Pink Rooster.
On the couch, Victoria is obviously delighted with our new house guest.

The giant, metal pink rooster will no doubt soon be like a member of the family. A member that we hate and never want to see again.

Despite the obvious love the kangaroo showed for the rooster, Ben and Ann refused to take the rooster, choosing instead to sunder these two loving hearts.


And then the night was over. With Mexican food percolating in our guts, we said goodbye to one another. Everyone went home to find a suitable place to display his new gift and to seek relief from the Mexican fiesta.

Ben likely found relief in the kangaroo.

Ryan and Nichole have proved themselves worthy of The Swap. And that means that next year, we need fresh meat.

Anybody want to play?