Christmas Puked: Ground Zero

Well it finally happened.

Christmas puked.

Kids, do not forget what the sacred wooden Christmas tree looks like:

She is going to find a home in another department this year.

I don't know if I am on the inside of a candy cane or if the walls and ceilings are now suddenly swimming lanes...

... but I'm pretty sure I'm moving my desk back into the warehouse, even if it is in a shitty drafty corner that I have to share with an inflatable helicopter Santa (who by the way rawks with not one but two motorized propellers)....

Can you max out on bad taste?  Perhaps it is possible if you have an angel with the dead bird tree topper...

... or a "new" candle holder which I am pretty sure is in fact not "new".  Unless candle holders are now being sold as cat  hair holders or a two for one cat hair/candle combo.  Which would be awesome if you liked cats.  I do not.  Sadly the cat hair did not come through on the pic but the horror of the holder is painful enough, of this I am sure.

So the Office Troll (formally the Office Dweller) got her wish.  A projectile vomit Christmas.  What can you expect when this is ground zero:

The following are a few highlights.  I actually took over 35 pics when I was in there but I will not burn your retinas out with bad taste.  Brace yourselves, its gonna get icky.

Garland reindeer on doggie pee pads (okay maybe they are not pee pads but damn they look like it):

 A teddy bear Christmas tree but most of the teddy bears have fallen off so now it just looks like a dead headless body drunk buddy hugging bears while trekking through the neighbour's hedge:

We cannot forget Santa.  Especially when he is about three feet tall and wearing the Office Troll's glasses.  Which she is always losing.  One would imagine it is to be expected when said troll loses a dot matrix (oh yes you read that right) printer under a fake palm jungle and singing and dancing Christmas tree:

See, I told you I am not creative enough to make this shit up.  I get paid to go to the Land Of Crazy every day.  Every.  Day.

So where does one work with all this Christmas glory exploding around them?  Allegedly in this space:

And Martha Stewart wept.

To be honest, I was getting all twitchy and holy-shit-my-A.D.D.-is-making-me-stabby when I was taking these pics.

Remember my desk?

Yes.  O.C.D. and A.D.D. live here.  I will cut a bitch if that dusty, mildewy, fur ball infested crap lands on my desk.  For really.  I like that my desk is clean and reasonably clutter free. 

Turns out I could work for Martha.

The only thing that can stay is Dick Tree.

 At first glance, you do not see it.  But it is a big corporate mushroom print.  I would like to take credit it, but it was The Temp who came up with this masterpiece:

And what does this have to do with "Where's Waldo?"  Who the fuck knows.  What does "Where's Waldo?" have to do with Christmas?

Exxackerly.