Daughters of the Year

My sister and I are such loving daughters we thought we'd be especially nice and give Mum something extra lovely for her birthday. Finding something adequate proved quite a dilemma. You could find us traipsing through op shops, sifting through piles and piles of those unloved gems that are always buried towards the bottom. Luckily for us, there is one particular op shop that seems to deliver without fail each time we need something decidedly worthy of the ice cream trophy. I hereby present to you the indescribable pink mass that is Mum's birthday jewelry box.







My sister and I also helped Dad out a bit to find something from him. Dad's gets bonus points for size and weight on top of the fugly factor.

The Proverbial Can of Worms...

Yes, this is the infamous stein that was the genesis of the fugly mayhem. This stein can be credited with everything that came after it from the helmet to the culmination of the trophy and the competitive streak it brought out in all of us. As a side note - the stein is quite photogenic and is much fuglier in person.

The Blue Ribbon prize goes to...

The award for the fugliest gift of 2009 went to my sister for the ah... amazing skills displayed in the creation of the helmet shown below. My mum and I found the helmet in a little op shop in a small country town and it just screamed victory and endless enjoyment. And credit where credit is due, kudos can only be given to my mum for the discovery of the truly remarkable trophy that has now descended upon the unwitting and unawares home of my dear sister. As a quick clarification, the trophy is actually a candle, although this might not be immediately apparent it did obviously have an intended purpose in its earlier life.

The purchasing of presents and trophies such as these delightful wonders are hugely entertaining in its own right. The looks attracted and the disbelieving stares when our wares are brought forth to the sales rep are quite comical. A look that quite rightly questions our taste or perhaps a lack thereof. The trophy was also bought in an antique shop in a small country town in South Australia (an obvious trend is occuring here - either small country towns in South Australia are incredibly smart and are disposing of such commodities (I use this term in the loosest possible sense) or they are the birth place of such quality items and are therefore partly to blame for this ongoing cycle of this game).

But back to the trophy - my sister received the highest honour and is now the proud (albeit temporary) owner of this incredible display of artistic whim and possibly blindness? Proof of such abilities is glaringly obvious at even the merest of glances.

The Helmet

This helmet awarded my sister the coveted and equally detested fugly trophy. It demonstrates why children and plaster of paris should never be left alone together. The end result is not necessarily the most attractive piece of artistry to adorn a household. The helmet doesn't fit on an adult's head but is still quite big and heavy and therefore gets bonus points for inconvenience. The helmet initiated the competitiveness in us all and so began the thirst for ultimate victory. This thirst is only satisfied when witnessing the crowning glory of the trophy displayed in an unwelcoming home. A victory all the sweeter safe in the knowledge of another year of immunity free of the fugliest constraint.