So the other day, I came home and Dave was looking all smirky about the face.  I spent 5 minutes trying to ignore it and then was like, “For the love of god, WHAT already?!?!?!”  ….And he whipped out a catalog that came in the mail for me.

A little history for you: in my former life, before I had a family and a mortgage, and my friends and I literally went out every single night, I used to love to shop.  Like, for myself– instead of what I do now, which is still shop a lot… only for milk or new soccer cleats or crickets for the lizard, ad infinitum.  And so I used to get a gajillion catalogs in the mail (including International Male.  Holy crap, I loved that thing.  I would call my friend Todd, who also got International Male, and we’d flip through it together over the phone and brainstorm scenarios in which Todd would actually wear the outfits.  In fact, I defy you to click that link, look at the Chakra Lounge Hoodie, and fail to be absolutely delighted).  At first I got mostly legit catalogs… then some weirder stuff crept in…. then there came a point at which I was getting catalog catalogs.  Like, a catalog from which I could order– and would actually pay for– more catalogs.  At that point, I threw in the towel.  I spent like six months taking myself off all mailing lists.  I was polite but brutally honest: “Your bedding is actually really ugly,” I would say.  Or, “I cannot stand cats, so I will not be owning any cats for which I could then buy your cat toys.”  Or even, “Because I’m not a retiree, am fully ambulatory, and do not need a wheelchair.”  I like to think it was my honesty that won the day: I eventually stopped getting anything but The Pennysaver, which as far as I know you must by law continue to receive until death.

But then The Pyramid Collection floated from the heavens and landed gently in my mailbox.  “What the hell is this on the cover?  Is this a floor-length paisley velvet cape?!?”  I said, taking it from Dave’s outstretched hand.  I read the little intro aloud: “Dear Friends, The signs are subtle– and gradual.  A sudden, indefinable thirst arising at the hour of twilight… that slight itching of the palms with the riding of a full moon… an unaccountable preference for shade over sunlight… All Hallows approaches.”

I swear to you on my Pyramid Collection catalog: that’s what it said.

So this thing is just filled with awesomeness: an enameled dragon head incense burner, where the incense flows out of the dragon’s nostrils.  The floor-length paisley velvet cape.  (Got that?  It’s a floor-length.  Paisley.  Velvet.  Cape.)  A little Jizo statuette, which is a revered Buddhist entity that watches over women and children– but as imagined by The Pyramid Collection, looks just like Stewey Griffin from “Family Guy.”  It’s as though everyone from Hogwarts and Pirates of the Caribbean met up at a Renaissance Faire.  (And then, randomly, there is a simple and stylish black dress that I think I might need.  Even Jill picked up the catalog and said, “WTF is this?  Is this a floor-length paisley velvet ca—- oooh, I like this black dress on the cover!!”) 

“I knew you would love that thing!” Dave said as I flipped through the pages, occasionally saying things like “Black Widow Shoes!” and, “Personal Power Ring!  Check it– people can buy a Personal Power Ring!!!” 

And I had only one thing to say in return: “I gotta call Todd.”