The Annual Recycling Party
Oakville Travel Blog› entry 56 of 96 › view all entries
February 1st, 2009 – by: AndyBrook
It works like this, participants gather their unwanted/embarrassing/hideous Christmas presents (for example that itchy pink and beige tank-top that Aunt Petunia knitted for you) they wrap them up and take them along to the house of M & K (assuming that they have an invite, it would be unacceptable to gate crash a recycling party, so if you have any intention of doing so then its probably best to leave your offering outside the house and retreat humbly).
This was my first recycling party, and I’m pleased to say it was highly entertaining. The unwanted were wrapped in a variety of styles in an attempt to delude the unwary. Two boxes were designed to lure the weak willed, with pictures of scantily clad models pasted over the front. Another box was superbly coated in tin foil and given intricate knobs, switches and dials drawn on the front by B (visit his badass kids clothing website here: http://www.mysticksnstones.com/) to achieve the affect of a robot, under the name of Regift-O 3000 (Although I think some inspiration might have come from the animated cartoon: Futurama).
The playing cards were given out and we divided up the gifts, only then to squabble and swap gifts about until everyone had the same quantity of gifts they had come in with, yet none they had actually brought.
The crowd suffered from beer lag, the symptom usually associated with a few bevies where Our Master of Ceremonies K had to call the cards out a number of times to illicit a response. After eager anticipation my card was called, unfortunately the pile was already gone, so I would have to steal from some unsuspecting person. I had my eye on the Regift-O 3000, currently possessed by a small boy surrounded by gifts across the room. I stood up amidst chants from the room to go for the box with the models, I made vague motions in its direction, only to turn at the last minute and approach the Regift-O 3000. The small boy leapt to a defensive stance and shot me a look that made me stop still and rethink my life. If looks could kill I’d be worm fodder by now.
I wisely backed away and chose a different present. We all continued swapping gifts around until all the cards had gone. After much tooing and frowing the wrapping gave way to a wondrous variety of truly awful presents. There was a phaberge egg in one box (attempting to look like a Faberge egg, made in tasteful plastic with costume jewels). The Regift-O 3000 revealed a superb collection of wrestling videos, and a second hand bra awaited the receiver of the box with the scantily clad models, a booby prize if ever there was one.
I departed clutching an idiot’s guide to investing in fixer-uppers.
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