For those of you not fortunate enough to have followed last year’s contest, a small word of explanation:

My family is weird. Just…odd. The immediate family, the extended family, on both sides and all branches of the family tree.  Last year, in honor of Jesus’s birth, we decided to amass the ugliest Christmas sweaters the world has ever seen. (Don’t ask. I don’t know either.) With no rhyme nor reason, we showed up in all of our finery:

2008 Entries

This year, we refined the rules into two categories. Embellished and Fugly Off the Rack. Because really, there’s homemade ugly and there’s why-in-the-name-of-all-that’s-holy-would-someone-manufacture-that? ugly. And this is where our categories separate.

Honestly, I don’t have all the photos in yet. (You know who you are!) But I’ll post what I have and add to the mix as they trail in.

———First up we have Fugly Off the Rack:—————-

Marvelous Marva (or “Mommy” to some of us) is modeling an untouched, Some-Kind-of-Blunderful frock that surely makes me want to weep. Shiny presents stick to her bosom and in case she ever wants to, oh, I don’t know…tie Santa up…?…she has ROPE stuck on there, too. Nicely played, Mumsay, nicely played.

MARVA: "Seasons Beatings! For the S&M crowd we have this black little number complete with festive restraints!"

 Next, we have yours truly modeling a hot little number SO ugly, even a crappy picture does it justice. I found this little beauty in a secondhand store and have the resale tag still attached to prove it. HOW, I ask you, could someone have let this little baby go?

KELLY: "As a Christmas gift, can you ever really go wrong with flowers and a big red bow? Yes, evidently you can."

Here we have Marvelous Marva’s hubby Tim in a fashionable frock with Old Saint Nick himself adorning the front! I’m not sure this qualifies as ugly, it was a gorgeous blue that matched his eyes. Then again, it DID have a stocking stuck to the arm that not just anyone can pull off. Hmmm…you be the judge!
And finally, we have the Doublemint Twins. Steve and Marci, aren’t they cute? These newlyweds arrived in equally icky sweaters celebrating the holiday season. BONUS points to Marci for wearing ugly Christmas socks to match! (My apologies for the lousy photographs. One of these years I’ll invest in a nicer camera. ) 🙂

Are they cute, or are they cute?


In our next category, we have  sweaters for the artsy-craftsy folks who just can’t leave Ugly Enough alone. You have to admire their dedication and wonder just where these little gems will wind up when the season is over. Somewhere, there’s an old folks home about to get FANCY.

These three lovely ladies are a Mother-Daughter-Sister combination. I’d tell you exactly who’s related to who, but what fun would that be? And besides, I get so confused.

I’m loving the general state of fugliness those sweaters entail, but bonus bravo points for the head wear. Seriously.

Oh. All. Right. Mother and Daughter are on the ends. You're so nosy!

(L to R) DIN, MARSHA, HILLARY: "Lady Gaga, eat your heart out!"

To the left we have Din, sporting a festive pink number complete with a snappy head scarf that would make RuPaul proud. (You GO, girl!)

In the center, Marsha models her pom-pom Nutcracker army. (I will not take the cheap shot, I will not take…) It comes with a wreath trim which is just hideous enough to showcase below:

Why?  Just...Why?

MARSHA: "You KNOW you want one. Yes you do!"

Now who wouldn’t want that bad boy hanging in their closet? Not only can you wear it for Christmas, but it works for Marching Band, Veteran’s day, 4th of July, a gay pride march, you name it. So versatile!
Next, we have Hillary all by her lonesome wearing quite possibly the fugliest sweater I have ever seen. And I’m IN this contest! 
Miss America watch OUT!

HILLARY: "I FOUND Elmo squashed on the road. Honest!"

Bows with bells? check.
Hanging presents? check.
Christmas lights?
Run over Elmo, dried, skinned and turned into a boa? check, check and double check!
It’s too bad I’m not an official judge. I’d have to award her extra points for the sassy shoulder scarves…or is that a cape? If that’s a cape, I’m bowing out of this contest right now. Better to openly admit defeat than to be uglied right into oblivion!
As I said, these are the photos I have to date. As I get more, I’ll add them so check back! Feel free to vote in the comments section for the garment you find the most offensive. Remember, we have two categories, so vote for one of each. I never got a copy of the official rules, so I don’t care if you’re a contestant or not. Vote away!

That’s Morses. Not Horses. Not Sources. Not Forces or Courses or even Norses. I’m looking for the extended MORSE clan who swore to enter Ye Olde Ugly Sweater Contest 2009. And just where are my kinsmen?

YOU! Go Home!


Y’all need to send those fugly sweater pics to me PRONTO! C’mon, chop-chop!
Although really, you poor saps haven’t got a chance. I bought MY ugly Christmas sweater in July, and that bad boy is a winner if ever I’ve seen one!
But still…for appearances sake,
let’s make it official. Forward your pics to me at  KTrainor @ Paperweight Productions .com .
For those of you just tuning in, a recap: 
A: Yes, I confess I’ve been MIA. Too many projects, not enough hours. Bless your heart for peeking in here! 
B: No, I’m afraid you can’t actually compete in The Ugly Sweater Contest unless you are a relative, BUT
C: You CAN peek at Last Year’s Contest if you need some Christmas cheer!  

I’ve been inexcusably MIA. Not just here, either. I’ve been pretty much absent from the internet. Since I spend all day working on the computer, that’s really saying something! Working a lot of hours + a trip from MI to SD, and you have a tired little blogger. I’ll try to do mo’betta soon. In the meantime, Big Howdy to all my peeps!

The Thinker

The Thinker



I’m trying to think of a good post. Really, I am!

Yesterday, while I tried on shorts in the local small town store. (It seems GV is no longer overpriced for the dumb rich folk.) Right there in the dressing room, in front of God and ev…well, in front of God and the mirror, anyway–Gloria Vanderbilt lied and said I was a size 12.


The Culprit

The heifer.

Since I’ve been a 16 for quite some time now, I think not. I’d like to pretend Gloria is just being kind, but I secretly suspect the old gal’s on crack. It can happen to the bored elite, you know.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been lied to by a fashionista, either. Liz Claiborne lives in HappyLand, where everyone is  petite.

I’m not kidding.

And so, dear friends, this missive comes to you with a warning. Don’t. Trust. Retailers. Because really, where will it end? Abercrombie sweatshirts with tags that say “You’re so smart to pay double what this sweatshirt is actually worth! Buy, sheep, BUY!”  ?  Designer jeans with “Damn your butt looks good!” printed on the inside?  ‘Tis Madness. MADNESS!

I will not take the cheap shot, I will NOT take the cheap shot!

Fisher the cat loves to cuddle around tree trunks. He rubs up against them, purring like crazy. As soon as the sap begins to run, our long haired feline becomes a matted MESS. Sometimes we can wash/comb it out, other times the poor boy gets shaved. Today was a clipper sort of day.

First off, Fisher doesn’t like the car. He yowled and growled all the way to the vet’s office. Next, they gave him shots. He was NOT amused.

And then out came the clippers, and he knew exactly what was coming. I wasn’t holding him down. I wasn’t about to shave him. I didn’t give him shots and I didn’t put sap in his fur in the FIRST place! Yet I was the one he hissed at. Repeatedly. Now there’s gratitude for ya.

Humorous Pictures
see more Lolcats and funny pictures

I love to mow the lawn. I love tools, actually, and what is a lawn mower if not a ginormous motorized tool? I love the power, the efficiency and the ability to be dangerous to any stubborn greenery that DARES cross my path.

Seriously, turn me loose in your lawn and I’ll mow that sucker right now.


The problem, which is really no problem whatsoever, is that my husband sees no discernible method to my mowing pattern. In his eyes, I’m randomly driving like a crazy person. For some odd reason, this irritates him.

I DO have a pattern. Yes I do! And it makes perfect sense. I mow in squares.

This is not an odd thing to do. It’s not like I mow in octagons or isosceles triangles. Yet somehow my husband does not ‘get’ my multi-sized, multi-directional squares that fit no grid known to man. If I start the process I have to finish because even though I could come back 3 days later and know precisely where I left off, my husband is hopelessly lost, wandering the the yard and murmuring obscenities under his breath.

Do you mow in a particular pattern? Are you one of those people who go the full length of their yards, leaving fancy long lines the neighbors all envy? Do you mow around all the trees, and then carefully finish the rest? Do you wander yonder, mowing over the ‘big stuff’ or just say “Screw It!” and let it grow?

Do tell. Especially if you mow in odd little squares.  ;0)

HOORAH! Woot-Woot-Woot!  Yesterday I happily boxed up Satan’s Minions our chickens for transport to their new home! (Oh allllll riiiiight. So I didn’t really help. I supervised, didn’t I?)

dance-cowBegone, winged beasts! Oh pestilent poultry! Fowl land mine leavers most foul!  I command you to LEAVE THIS PLACE!  *Walks the yard holding a cross at arms length, swinging an incense orb in her other hand.

I. am. so. HAPPY!

For those just tuning in, I have a real thing about chickens. Their beady eyes, flappy wings and terrifyingly bold nature freak me OUT. Me noooo likey. I’ll spare the regular readers, but do a search for “evil chickens” in here and you’ll have reading material up the yazoo.

I was especially happy to see them leave after I spooked them by accident –with a plastic bag of all things– and one of them flew up in my face and hit me hard enough to bend my glasses. In. My. Face. In-my-FACE.


*Waves goodbye while giddily breathing into a paper bag.

The absolute last, final word: Alektorophobics, you are NOT Alone!