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I’m a big fan of comfort. I could live in sweatpants, shorts, pajamas, running skirts amongst a few other things. So soft, flowy, amazing. Now imagine my delight when I discovered that Christmas 2009 was going to involve a tacky sweater party. Because who doesn’t love a party that is based solely on comfort and tackiness? I have been elated and probably overly excited for the past month and a half. Part of this joy came from knowing my tacky sweater was going to put many others to shame. Shame I tell you. Not only was it tacky (because tacky it was), but it also played an array of Christmas tunes. I made everyone listen… which apparently looked like I was making them smell my sweater. Not awkward at all.

I decided that if you’re going to a tacky sweater party you have to do it right. No half-assing it for me. I decided to let Christmas throw up on me for a night and call it sexy. I’ve personally never been so attracted to myself. Amidst the madness and mayhem I forgot to get a full body shot… so you’ll have to do with the top half. In addition to the upper body amazingness I also had on knee high red/green striped socks with pom poms hanging down the side and fuzzy Christmas slippers. I realize that my description may cause some to feel intense feelings of attraction, but please try to restrain yourself. Check me out:

Ashlyn, Me and Jacqui (Schmacqui) getting tackified!

There was also a white elephant  and a plethora of wine to be had. At one point “Mr. Wee Wee” or whatever he is really called made an appearance. I surprised more than a few people and entertained comments about face peeing for the next several hours…

It was one amazing night all the way around.

Update! (original here)

Last weekend I attended a “classy” Christmas party… involving a cocktail-ish dress and some big ‘ol heels. I was totally rocking it. Didn’t feel like a half-naked beast one bit. BUT, last night at my friend’s tacky sweater party someone made this comment about my height to my littlest sister. Now he may have been hitting on her, and she does have a boyfriend who was present, but nonetheless:

Random Guy: Your sister is a giant. <pause> Last week she was wearing heels and WHOA she was just staring down a the top of my head. <pause> <pause> Now, you… you’re just the right size.

For starters, what guy in the right mind starts hitting on one sister by insulting the other? Anyone, anyone? And two, I’m a giant? Rude. Maybe next time I’m staring down at the top of his head I’ll conveniently mention his need for a moisturizing scalp shampoo, because whatever he was using surely wasn’t doing the trick.

P.S. Tacky sweater photos coming soon.