They Call Me PrettyEhch.

It's official. I need more Chucky P icons. Who's up to the task?


What I got in the mail today made me cry, and cry, and cry. In a happy/sad sort of way. Mostly happy, but so sad for him, because...just...wow. The letter. And the necklace. I'm wearing it right now, and I have to say...I feel weird. I did as soon as I picked it up, before I read the letter explaining what it really is. Now that I know, I am so touched.


And if we thought I'd gotten thrilling packages from the man before? This tops 'em all. I love so much that he remembers. That he bothers to keep files in his computer to look back and see what we've talked about, in letters or in person. He keeps track. That is so far above and beyond...anything.


Ready? Come walk with me through the best hour I've had in a long while, laughing and crying and squealing with every single thing that he'd stuffed into this box (which, according to the postage label, cost him just shy of $30 USD to send - the thing weighed a ton).


And so the adventure begins.


A sample of things to come:





This is what you have to be ready to clean up for years after a Chuck box arrives. I still have bits and pieces of this stuff on my desk from the last ones. I admire the fact that he never uses the same colours twice.


Here's a basic overview of the contents. I didn't find the letter - which was folded inside one of the books - until after I'd opened the infamous necklace box, which is why I was so...emotional when I realized what I was holding.

I hadn't even taken everything out yet; that's why there's some on the table and more in the box. My dining room table was overwhelmed (and I hadn't put away my laundry yet, so you can see a towel in the corner there).


A closer look yields better results. You can see a slightly strange copy of Invisible Monsters as well as Diary - they'll be explained shortly - as well as a copy of "CHOKE" on DVD...which, if you can believe it, I actually did not yet own. How this is possible, I do not know.

You can probably read the letter pretty well at this resolution. You can also see that he sent me more Forget-Me-Not seeds, since I'd told him my last ones from him had sprouted but never blossomed, along with an herb garden (this could be scary) and...the sick bastard actually sent carrot seeds. If you know the "GUTS" story, you know exactly why he's a sick bastard for giving out such a thing. I had a good laugh at that.

I'm also now the proud owner of a lucky sheep, who currently resides next to my Power Parrot, and a handy wipe to rid myself of sin. (I should actually photograph the back, too - it's got hilarious instructions. You can at least click the thumbnail below to get a better look at the front.)


I'd raved about the chocolate he'd sent before, and we talked at the "RANT" event about how we both prefer chocolates that don't have nasty surprises in them (i.e. cherries or that orange cream crap), so I was pleased to find he'd sent me a box that has only caramels and milk chocolate in them. YUM. He also clearly remembered our many conversations about me wanting to get my RPN, and him asking me to collect some horror stories from my doctor colleagues for him, because he included a pen that looks like a blood-filled syringe. I ♥ this man.



Perhaps most notably, you can see my record-breaking THIRD necklace, featuring three peridots (my birthstone - he's put them on each of the ones he's made me) and an assortment of other fascinating little pieces. But the most wonderful thing about it is what he explained in the letter (aside from his standing promise of NO KIDNEY STONES, which he reiterated when no_bald_monkeys and I saw him last month).

The paragraph in question is more visible here:


If for whatever reason you can't read it, here's the bit that really got me:

These days I still use rocks I find while traveling, but I also use rocks from my father's collection. Plus, I've started to use rocks I've gleaned from my mother's old jewelry. She died this past winter, but I think she'd approve of this project. This way, each part of the necklace has its own story, in addition to being ancient stones. NOT kidney stones.



Yes. Okay. Hand me the Kleenex again, please. I know how close he was to his mother, and I knew she'd passed away very recently. I also know that he was close to his father, and that he went through hell after his dad was murdered, leaving Chuck to testify at the sentencing of the man who did it (and his statement, apparently, solidified the death penalty that was handed down). To know that I have pieces of this - tiny things strung around my neck that belonged to people he loved so much - is...just...

I hope he does the same thing for others who will be as honoured as I am. It's an incredible thing, to put parts of your heart out there for strangers to appreciate. I hope he knows who will and will not take as much from it as I do.




Ahem. Composing myself, and moving on.




If you look above at that close-up of the letter, you'll also see the tiniest (single-serving! AHAHAHAHA!!) bottle of Tabasco sauce ever made, as well as a pen that had me giggling like an idiot for quite some time. I think we need to visit this website:

I haven't yet checked out www.fluffy4ever.com, but if you get to it first, I want a full report.


The stuff still in the box speaks for itself. He sent me birthday candles again - the kind you can't blow out - along with another hi-bounce ball (but this one glows in the dark!!) hidden inside an egg full of Silly Putty. The lotus incense smells divine, as does the little flower-shaped vanilla candle and the blueberry bath fizzies.

I don't think the fake vomit needs an explanation, really.


Now we get to the books. I recognized "Invisible Monsters" right away, but I knew there had to be a twist...

No, Chuck. I cannot. But I will learn.

A bonus? That is one of the only books of his that I own which I've never had him sign. So now I have an even more unique collector's item in it.

The back:


But the most hilarious part for me - and surely for anyone who's read the book in English - is the fact that some things simply don't need to be translated at all...

I'm still laughing about that one. Anyone reading this who doesn't understand why it's funny must now go out and get the book. (It's one of the greatest novels I've ever read, if that's an extra selling point.)


Now, I should probably note that, at first, I had no idea that Chuck had written notes inside the books. It was my mother who noticed it, because she picked up the second book to see what on earth was hidden between the pages (it was, as it turns out, the packets of seeds). I was so distracted by finding the letter in the first book that I'd never thought to look for even more surprises.

AHA! Mais oui, monsieur Palahniuk! This one I can read. It'll be an interesting project, really - I'll brush up on my French, I'll re-read a book that I have thus far read only once, back in 2005, and I'll see if anything was lost (or gained) in translation.




So. It took as long for me to write about this as it did for me to painstakingly go over each and every tiny thing inside that box. He is, truly, a class act. And I will wear his parents' gemstones with such pride.


Have you ever noticed that his surprises always come at the darkest moments? These weren't supposed to be shipped out until closer to Christmas...and yet here I am, buried beneath gifts and confetti, and very content with that.




Thanks, Chucky P. I'll Shut Up Now.





ETA: See what I miss when I don't check Twitter for a day or two??

I do love that man. Honestly and truly. I'll always be smitten by Tony Blair David Frost Lucian Michael Sheen. That much I shall not forget. (What is it with famous people wanting to cheer me up these days???)

---