It’s that time of the year again where the thought counts more than the gift itself… or something like it, so I become the unwilling recipient of scented candles, mugs, and picture frames. See, it’s not that difficult to get me a gift. If the store sells alcohol and cigarettes, then you can find a perfectly good gift that you can give me for Christmas.
Yet no matter how much I emphasize the “you-can-make-me-happy-with-vice” motto, nobody gets me a ream of cigarettes or a bottle of whiskey for the holidays. All I ever really wanted for Christmas was something for me to smoke and something for me to drink, but some people insist on playing through my “mysteriousness” and “intellect.”
Last Christmas, I got copies of “The Purpose-Driven Life,” “Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul,” two copies of “The Alchemist,” and a paperback version of “How to Win Friends and Influence People.” After talking to my givers who seemed to not have a problem with what I was going to do, I promptly re-gifted the gifts. Potlatched, so to speak, revolving round the Kula ring.
Instead of thinking hard – or not thinking at all, for that matter – I decided I only want five things for Christmas:
Steampunk glasses. I will look good in them. The extra lenses will come in handy for peering into documents, or whatever I feel like peering into. Plus they look awesome.
Flamethrower. I had it up to here with disposable cigarette lighters. They’re useful for smoking, but I need something to pursue my other hobby: destruction. With a flamethrower, I can smoke and destroy stuff.
Zhu Zhu Pets. They’re toy hamsters. On wheels. With cars. Children half a world away are clamoring for these cute little stuffed critters. Heck, I’m clamoring for them. GET ME A ZHU ZHU PET!!!
Slinky. The metal ones, not the plastic rainbow-colored ones.
Clairol Herbal Essences. Yeah, I’m having a minor hairfall problem, so I’m going to need quite a lot of these.
Anyway, there you go. Go make me happy, lulz.