This cookie jar from thrift store hell is living in my kitchen.
I received it from my grandmother who knows I don't own ANY things like this, I also don't have an abundance of cookies that need to be contained so therefore I've come to the conclusion she must be fucking with me at this point. Not much else explains this cookie jar.
I have spent many years of my life crushing her spirit with sentences like "listen, this fur coat is great and everything.. it's just not my style." Meaning we aren't in prohibition times. Then, she cries. However, I only expect this crazy crap during the holidays. And it's because of my sporadically crushing her spirit that she only comes over with maybe 2 or 3 things. If you don't have any idea of what that is like, you lucky bastards, then just picture waking up Christmas morning to an insane woman spraying fake snow on the outside of your windows and you'd be fairly close. Not for me of course but for the children. Christmas needs to take a dump in my house and forget to flush, like an asshole, or else everyone will be sad. Unless ultra decorations your thing though.. then that is just wonderful. I wouldn't come over and start taking shit down because I thought it was nuts so if you find my house 'depressing' because it's not flammable you're also more than welcome to just leave. Also it's probably you that is depressed.
Obviously that is what I'd LIKE to say but you know it usually comes out as "Ok, that's.. a thing. Uhhh ya I guess I could use it. Sure." Hey you try being the reason your grandmother cries at Christmas. JUST TRY IT. You don't have what it takes!!
If anyone would like to revisit the unfunny short 8 part webcomic series last year, you'll see why my frustration is as unending as it is historically amusing! So here's the whole thing for old times.