For a while, daemonwolf has been posting intriguing little clues in the comments as to what she’s been fixing to send me in order to further grind on my apartment manager, clues which have indeed captivated my imagination:

“It’s not really that horrible, just… odd. I’m still sad I didn’t get the matching one, but goddamn shipping would have been ridiculous.”

“I went with the theme of BIG and KITSCHY.”

“He is on the way. I call him…. MexiClause. Or perhaps LatinoClause. I’m still sad I didn’t get the matching set. His woman, she was browtastic.”

Even though she told me it was big, GODDAMN I did NOT expect to see a package of such immense proportions waiting for me. All the while, as I was peeling off tape, my mind was still imagining what on earth ‘MexiClause’ could be–and even in my wildest imagination, I came nowhere close.

Just look at this:

I’m jealous of his luxurious beard, that’s so thick and masterful, it must be parted. If only I could grow a beard so spectacular–I’d go for a side-sweep part myself. Sort of a beard combover.

I’m reminded of the painting of Baba Rama Nana in Private Resort, but as I stare into his eyes, I’m not convinced that I should wear robes and worship him…yet.

Best. Painting. Ever.

Thank you, Tara!

I have been getting various things through the mail for an upcoming event, the details of which I am not yet revealing, on April 20th. (By the way, you should all mark your calendars to be available that day from 6-11pm, or you will be mad at yourselves FOREVER.) This basically means that I’ve been getting packages in the mail every day for about a week and a half.

I don’t get snotty remarks anymore. The office people address me politely by name, and when they see me out walking Napoleon, they gather up whatever packages I’ve got and have the ready for when I walk by the office. The apartment manager also said that if I want to renew my lease, I should talk to her and she’ll only bump me $10 per month instead of the $55 everyone else is getting.

Then, yesterday, I got this on my door.

I think this means I’ve won! Many thanks to everyone who helped make this campaign of irritation and absurdity work–you’ve won, too. Fuckin’ A.