The Elf On the Shelf Almost Ruined My Marriage

Picture 9It started out so innocently. I got the Elf for my daughter and I was kind of mad at myself for caving in to the mommy peer pressure to do the elf thing. But my poor kid was feeling left out at school because her first grade teacher (and damn her to hell for this) would start every morning (after the Pledge of Allegiance, of course because we’re good Americans) with the sharing of elf stories. She’d ask the kids what their elf was doing when they woke up? Had it been naughty or nice? Blah, blah.

That sealed it. I was forced to enter the elf world. I got a boy elf because I thought he was less creepy and not that this matters to me, at all, but don’t you think the girl elf, the original girl elf, looks a little butch? And what’s with the elf with the hillbilly blond hair? Is she on loan from the North Pole Hooters? C’mon Santa let’s get back to a G rated Christmas.

Any who, so there I was with the boy elf in the check out line at Target and I start getting a weird feeling like the elf is trying to communicate with me from the hermetically sealed package. I can’t even see him  because he’s inside a box which contains the propaganda material, sorry I mean elf story, but I’m not kidding when I tell you I got a dirty, little elf vibe. Like he was telling me I was hot.

Not that I would argue with him on that. I was looking good. I went to Target immediately after getting my hair highlighted and blown out and I was feeling fabuglam which is what all the cool PTA moms call themselves who hang out in the foyer of the elementary school and hold court. (Well, it’s really not a foyer but you know the inside front area of the school and what the hell on them treating the school like it’s their freaking home? I’m telling you every morning it’s like a long ass receiving line at a wedding.) Whatever on what I just told you, the important point is that I was, for sure, the most fabuglam woman in the #4 Target checkout aisle.

Once I get the elf in my car the flirty feeling doesn’t go away if anything it intensifies. I’m a little scared. Could I being having a stroke or something? Although, I don’t remember any of the signs of a stroke being the surreal experience that you’re being hit on by a plush toy still in a box.

So, I did what you would have done, I open that sucker up. I wanted to save it for my daughter to open but by God when you feel that level of arousal in your car and the seat warmers aren’t even on you have to do something. I ripped the box open and the elf winked at me. Yep, I was stroking out. Even though I checked my eyes in the rear view mirror and my pupils were evenly dilated for sure I was goner. Then I slapped myself in the face. I felt that. No facial paralysis. Did I get bad Diet Coke mix at McDonalds or something? Was their carbonation to syrup ratio so off that I’m having hallucinations?

As all of this is going through my head I start feeling a tingle in my jingle. The elf, who I had put in my lap while I checked my pupil dilation, was nuzzling my lady garland and Oh Holy Night it felt amazing. I immediately picked up the elf (and by immediately I mean about four minutes later) and threw him in the passenger seat.

By this time I’m shaking, in a good way, if you know what I mean and while I’m attempting to regain my composure (it’s not everyday I experience a great big ho, ho, ho in the parking lot of Target) I start thinking of plausible excuses for what’s going on. I quickly blame my husband.

We had being going through a bit of a dry spell in the romance arena. Totally not my fault, by the way. His stupid fantasy football teams were responsible for our craptastic love life. He had three. I told him he couldn’t handle three teams, but he ignored me. What with the trades, the drafts, the roster changes it became like a second job. Oh, and here’s the real killer he said it was stressing him out and causing him to have insomnia. “So, let me get this straight,” I asked the man/child my husband had become, “your make-believe, pretend, mythical football teams are causing you so much stress you can’t sleep? Do you think you’re mentally ill? Because that’s what it looks like to me or you’re the world’s biggest idiot which is also a real possibility.”

Putting all the responsibility for going to third base with a toy squarely on my husband’s shoulders made me feel better, much better. I then proceeded to pick my daughter up from school where she was delighted to get the elf which she quickly named Candy Cane. For the next couple of nights I did all the elf stuff you’re supposed to do. I moved him around from the kitchen to the family room, put him in the tree. You know the usual.

Then on night four I woke up and found Candy Cane in bed with me. Strange, because I had left him in the kitchen on top of the toaster. I was in bed all by myself because my husband had fallen asleep on the couch downstairs while watching ESPN – shocker, I know. Well, if I’m lying I’m dying, the elf began wooing me. This, my friends, is when I started my downward spiral of carnal elfing.

You’re judging me I can feel it. Please stop because there’s more to my story. That damn Elf on a Shelf broke my heart. He was one talented, brown-haired, blue-eyed, jerk! In answer to the question I know you’re dying to ask. The elf is junkless. What he does have is that erect red stocking hat. It may not be big, but it’s got some mad skills.

I took Candy Cane everywhere with me. We were inseparable. I even, like a lot of moms, became a little obsessed with taking “Elfy Shelfies.” Pictures of my handsome little man doing naughty and nice things. But then a mere week later I began to think that Candy Cane was cheating on me.

I would come home from work or running errands and I would find him hanging out at Barbie’s Dream House. One time I caught Candy Cane and Mermaid Barbie riding the wave of desire. Which really confused me. Isn’t the whole mermaid fish tail, pretty much, an aquatic chastity belt? And you do not want to know what I found him doing in the Disney Princess Little People Palace with the Polly Pocket dolls. The final straw was when he crossed over the species line to get his giddy up on with the My Little Ponies. Who knew Rainbow Dash was such a tramp.

“Enough!” I told Candy Cane. I was kicking him out of the house. He fought me but I sealed him in a Ziploc Freezer bag (the limited edition holiday themed bags because I’m not a monster) and dumped him off at Goodwill. My daughter wasn’t upset at all. Over stupidly expensive hot chocolate at Starbucks she confessed that the Elf wasn’t as much fun as she thought he would be. “You know,” she sighed, “it seems like the moms are a lot more into those elves than us kids. They talk about them all the time and take a bunch of pictures.”

What could I do except nod my head, cross my legs and say “Yeah, you’re right. It sure does.”

Liberate yourself from that freaking elf and give yourself the gift of Snarky.  Yes, my precious holiday hobgoblin  just click on one of the links and presto you can get yourself some Snarky for only, wait for it, wait for it, 99 cents!  You can buy it for your Kindle or in paperback on Amazon.  It’s also available for the Nook or you can get it for your Kobo reader. Click on a link and give it a test read. 🙂






26 thoughts on “The Elf On the Shelf Almost Ruined My Marriage

  1. Elf On the Shelf Fan says:

    A friend sent me a link to this blog and I don’t think she must know me very well because I thought it was disgusting. I’m a huge fan of the Elf On the Shelf and yes I am one of those mothers that every day posts a new picture of what our elf did overnight. The EOTS is a magically part of Christmas that you cheapened with your foul mind. I sure hope your kids don’t read your blog because it’s gross.

    • Snidely Whiplash says:

      Lady, I’m pretty sure that as much as you love the Elf On The Shelf, no one really cares what he “did” (really, where you put him) overnight.


      We have one of those elves, and I hate the bleedin’ thing. The *last* thing I want at Christmastime is One More Thing To Do.

    • Cori Chartier says:

      you poor thing. you must be devastated by all of the Elf hate. I personally can’t believe that people don’t take the Elf more seriously and treat him w/ the respect he deserves. I mean really! What could be more important? I guess there’s always the fact that Trump just announced that the US should expand our nuclear weapons capability and he hasn’t even been inaugurated yet! But, no you’re right, we should focus on Snarky being “mean and unfair” about the importance of posing and photographing a stuffed elf. You do know that it’s people like you that are responsible for The King of Cheeto becoming POTUS, right? Thank you from all of us that don’t care about EOTS.

  2. Chris says:

    So Snarky, you have a very sick sense of humor. God help anyone, at any age,

    who thinks your story is entertaining. The joke is on you for your stupidity!

  3. Chris says:

    Geez folks, a bit touchy are we??? I too succumbed to the elf ritual several years ago much to my dismay!! This was hilarious!! What exactly do people expect when they see “snarky” anyway? Lighten up!

  4. J. says:

    Snarky – this is absolutely hilarious. The haters leaving the nasty remarks are the moms in that receiving line in the school foyer. It finally hit home to them when you called them out on their absurdity of standing around trying to be important!!

    I also have an elf and agree that no one gives a **** what or where I put her. I move the stupid thing for my child, NOT b/c I want to know what other parents think of my movement or placement of the elf.

  5. Elf Loving Mama says:

    While my kids enjoy the Elf on the Shelf I hate it and laughed my ass off while reading this. Kudos to Snarky for not being afraid to lampoon this holiday pain in the ass. And for all you people that are offended get a life!!!!!!!

  6. Janet Harris says:

    I have enjoyed the daily pics of my grandson’s elf and his enjoyment of it….while your story did not offend me it was not funny and seems a little disturbed…and no I never was a yuppie mom and if you met my daughter you would know she is not either

  7. Ashlee says:

    Haha! You know what I hate….. getting all warm and snug in bed and then remembering I did not move that darn elf!!! Oh the agony of getting up AGAIN so the kids wont be upset.

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