And a bat hanging in the belfry

Yesterday I ventured to the shops for el-cheapo, kitsch and tacky Christmas decorations. I don’t mind telling you it was a zoo out there, but this year was pleasantly a veritable feast of tasteful (??? Taste is relative after all) glitter and tinsel at reasonable prices.
I found very cute little soft beanie kittens with Santa hats for a couple of dollars each (Although the gorgeous boy about the grotto suggested they looked a little ‘mangy’- perhaps that is why I liked them so much.) that will play around my glitter jackolanterns that I can’t bare to put away after Halloween.
Tons of tinsel is essential- you can’t possibly have too much tinsel and I noticed that some of the more interesting luxury tinsels in fabulous colors are now filtering down to the discount stores. Admittedly I wanted premo-cheapo so I settled for blue, purple and red on 9 meter rolls.
There were also great glittery plastic ornaments that are non descript enough to adorn the ghoulie garden all year round.
Some friends of ours get the award for the grinchiest deco though- a singing Santa wreath with Santa’s head doing the full 360 turn. *sigh* you just can’t reproduce malfunctions like that.

Finally if you haven’t already seen the Jones Soda holiday pack from the U.S.A you really have to see it to believe it. Alas it is too late to acquire one of these (I mean I would sell a relative to get my gnarled fingers on them), but wouldn’t it be fun to taste test these with your guests!!!

The wicked witch and the enchanted air conditioner

The wicked witch was positively cooked. Beads of perspiration carried great globs of black mascara from her eyes to her chin and her eyebrows (penciled on only this morning) were no where to be found. Even her black cat familiar hissed when he saw her looking even more menacing than normal. Indeed the witch wasn’t the only thing suffering in the heat wave; her pet crow “Scar” was in a filthy mood and had squawked and pecked at anything that dared to come near him and her prized patch of Hemlock was wilting beyond resuscitation.
The witch dragged herself about her cottage, feeling far too hot in her own skin, let alone her uniform of black handkerchief hemmed gown and shawl- though she had forgone her pointy black hat which sat limply in the corner. She could barely be bothered to think, let alone cast spells and she didn’t venture anywhere near her cauldron, eyeing its bubbling hot surface with disdain. How this heat fanned her frustration and made her long to rein terror over the township, for the sheer malice of it.
Then there came a revelation, a lone salesman made his way up the cottage path- obviously not a local all of whom would have known better than to darken the old witch woman’s doorstep. The peddler knocked boldly at the cottage door and the witch who had been peeking at him from behind the curtains noted that he looked despicably cool despite the weather; but pleased to have someone to vent her spleen upon, she let him in.
They sat in the small, muggy kitchen which surely seemed hotter than the pits of damnation and the salesman launched into his spiel eventually pulling a large air conditioner from his surprisingly small carpet bag. The wicked witch was mesmerized by this enchanted item that promised to bring a cool breeze to her stifling cottage. Immediately she decided she must have one of these air conditioners for herself.
Of course being a wicked witch she had no intention of paying the salesman, nor waiting for someone to come and install the magical machine; instead she threatened to turn the salesman into a frog (which she promptly did to Scar so that the man would know she meant business) and set him to work installing the air conditioner immediately.
Finally 2 hours later the job was finished- though not without some bad tempered whining from the witch over how long it was taking, and the much relieved salesman scampered from the witches evil clutches.
The witch was finally left alone to try out her new fabulous cooling machine. She pressed the on button and waited. The Air conditioner whirred to life and swiftly swept deliciously cool air through out the cottage. The wicked witch was overcome by feelings of joy and contentment (all quite foreign to her normally prickly demeanor) and suddenly felt the urge to shrug off her heavy black clothes in favor for something cool and white and airy. The scowl lines shifted from her face and for the first time in her life she looked calm and serene and at least a 100 years younger. Suddenly she had the overwhelming urge to make gazpacho- (cold tomato soup) for her dinner and she quickly went to prepare the ingredients and take her cauldron off the heat. Even her black cat looked decidedly placid and purred with contentment.
So it would seem that the wicked witch wasn’t really so wicked; just a little hot and bothered and cranky.

Sugar and Spice and all things nice- that's what little ghouls are made of.

Well now if you are lucky enough to live in Melbourne and you like all things chocolate- you need to get yourself off for a little indulgence at Koko Black in the Royal arcade, off the Bourke st mall in the city (very cute upstairs lounge area where if you are lucky you can score a window seat and look down on the passing shoppers).
I was lucky enough to catch up with a friend for a little ghoul-friendly chat and some strong coffee and sweet, smooth decadent chocolate (keeping ourselves nice – we settled on selecting just a couple of their excellent chocolates), but I did get a peep at some of the bigger, more lavish deserts and they looked Spooktacular.
New studies have found that chocolate is very good for a stubborn nagging cough- so perhaps you can cite Science as a reason for a little choco-fiesta

The Hellish holidays

Grinchy holiday wishes! Don’t you just love the holidays- the avalanche of junk mail (Ok, junk mail is my secret shame, I love the catalogues, especially the toy ones), the crush at the shopping centers (Malls for our overseas friends), the inescapable stomach churning renditions of Christmas carols, the glazed look in Gift shopper’s eyes as they wander aimlessly from one cheesy Christmas display to another?
By now you are thinking I am a Scrooge, but no I actually really like the holidays and pretty much any holiday at that! It’s just that the Christmas season does strange things to people. For 3 working days holiday you see people ransacking the supermarket for enough goods to see them through a holocaust. People putting themselves into hock, to buy someone they might not even like something that they probably won’t want.
But on the lighter side of things- I do love the decorations! They are a glitter bug’s delirium. Mind you there isn’t a lot on offer for the ghoulish celebration, so this year I have contributed “holiday bats” with little red hats and grim wishes printed on their wings- you can check them out at Ghoulie Babies and Glamour vamps.
This year I am also opening the grotto to host the family Christmas celebrations- I think the glitter and tinsel finally got to me- Which is a little nerve wracking post invitation!! But I figure I will throw myself into it with the sort of gay abandon only a glitter addled mind can deliver.
I also can’t resist reflecting on Christmas past. The shrieks of delight at 5am to see that Santa had been (Ok, that was only last year….); My mother starting to cook Christmas lunch at 10am, Visiting the relatives who gathered at my grandmothers house just next door, Cranberry sauce (which in my opinion should be one of the food groups) and a couple of the most prized childhood gifts- the 1970’s Barbie Town house and a ventriloquist doll, both of which I am still carting around.

Anyway prepare- for the fat man cometh, breaking into houses via the chimney in his big black vinyl and monster fur suit and storm trooper boots and zooming across the night sky in a hearse full of naughty pixies pulled by 6 thundering nightmares!

Shopping exploits of a ghoulie Diva.- a ficticious tale from GhoulieBabies and Glamour Vamps

Kitty loves a shopping spree. She loves to browse the stores, test the samples and finger the luxurious fabrics in the clothing departments. Shoes, make-up, home wares, clothing, lingerie, jewelry, Kitty was happy to peruse it all and the ghoulie underworld is a veritable treasure trove for the darkest of shopping Divas.
Kitty insists a perfect ending to a spooktacular shopping session is an hour or two at the boo-eauty salon. So she booked herself in for a “hair-distressing”, a full body ‘scritchy-scratchy scrub’, ‘creature from the black lagoon mud bath’ and finally a session on the rack to work out those nasty kinks and aches from the strenuous task of carrying all of ones purchases from shop to shop.
Then she hit the road. First Stop on Kitty’s schedule is always the “House of Shrieks”- home of the highest, the most uncomfortable, virtually impossible to walk in, but shockingly fabulous shoes any ghoul could ever want. Sleek, spiky, stiletto or platforms from Hell, this store has it all and the heavy, earthy atmosphere of the cavernous interior is mostly punctuated with the high pitched squeals (of both delight and discomfort) of the satisfied shoppers within.
Then she gets down to the serious business of creature couture. There are so many choices a mortal head would spin, but Kitty struts confidently from couturier to tailor, rag shop to rag bag, facing the glare of snooty assistants with a medusa style sneer. Lacing and boning, leg’o’mortal sleeves, hobbles skirts, bondage pants, Kitty tore through them like an end of lease clearance and a kings ransom later swept purposefully across the shopping ‘maul’ to “Creative Crypt keeping” a one stop shop for cobwebs and candle sticks, various grades of dust, velvet curtains and a whole new line of “room must”, perfect for creating the perfect resting place in your very own crypt, vault or crumbling mansion. Kitty fears she has a less than mausoleum atmosphere at home, so she indulges in a few dozen candles and a creak for her door.
Of course by this time it’s the wee small hours of the morning (Serious shopping ghouls always shop at night) Kitty’s feet are killing her and her fingers are numb from all of the little shopping bag loops she is precariously balancing. She slumps gratefully into her hair tamers electric chair with a nice cup of hemlock tea and relinquishes herself to his expert claws, for now at least her shopping beast within has been sated.

-Lady Nemesis 2004