Ahhh, Christmas. It’s almost here and my kids are practically pissing their Patagonias with excitement. As I’ve shopped for what I could find online and searched the city for the things I couldn’t, I have to ask myself: Is it really worth it?
I don’t mean my boys…they’re the greatest. I’m talking about the melee that starts the morning after Thanksgiving. Black Friday sales! Never Before/Never Again sales! Back of a Van in the Alley sales! Books have been written about the over-commercialization of Christmas. Buy one for the reader on your list today!
Anyway, it got me thinking. I’m a hard person to buy for. I don’t want much or need much, things that can be bought anyway, so my wish list is pretty short. But the list of things I don’t want is quite long. Here are a few honorable mentions of
SHIT I DON’T WANT FOR CHRISTMAS
Samsung Galaxy Cee-Lo Signature model. Well, pretty much any Samsung phone for the next few years. Sorry guys, I’m sure you’re doing your best to replace those batteries, but I’d seriously think about renaming the next versions to get it out of everyone’s mind.
And did y’all see the video of that shit? It exploded like an Iranian Welcome Wagon and sent all 800 lbs of Cee-Lo straight to the mat. Rumor has it, the phone was a gift from an ex-girlfriend. When asked for comment, she smiled, and stated “No, Cee-Lo, F**k Youuuu Oooh Oooh Oooh!
I’m now 45 years old. What’s left of my salt and pepper hair is mostly salt and not much pepper. The washboard abs of my youth have deteriorated into the more common Alabama Washtub abs. So the last thing I need to steal what little mojo I have left is some goofy-ass blanket with sleeves. I might as well run around mumbling about the force while wearing a Jedi robe backwards.
And do we really need an engineer’s help with this? If a guy can’t figure out how to keep a blanket on, maybe he’s not competent to drive the team to the game.
I love dogs. They’re cute and lovable and great companions. But unless you’re going to be here to feed it, let it out when it needs to unload, or change my socks after I’ve stepped in an accident, dogs make shitty Christmas presents.
Let me repeat, if you live together and can help with the responsibility, then wrap that little bastard up and jam it under the tree. Hopefully it will be quiet until Christmas morning. But if I see you once or twice a year, don’t do it. It’s like handing off a random Ukrainian family you found in a parking lot. Do it if you want, but you can bet your ass I’ll be listing them on eBay before your car’s out of the driveway.
You worked hard for your money. You took time to go shopping. You’re spending some of it on a present for me, and I thank you for it.So please don’t waste it on Billy the Talking Bass or a coffee mug with ceramic titties on it. Or this:
I also don’t need a Dachshund-shaped pillow that makes fart sounds or a deck of nudie playing cards. Ok, maybe I’ll take that one.
A Picture of You
That’s what Facebook is for. I can see your FACE anytime I want to. So unless you’re a celebrity on my List of Five, or in a photo with—
- Jesus (the Bible one pronounced JEE-ZUS, not an everyday Hispanic one pronounced HEY-ZEUS)
—don’t wrap up a picture of yourself and slap a bow on it.
It’s not that I don’t like you. Obviously we care enough about each other if we’re exchanging gifts. But would you want a picture of me? I rest my case.
Have a favorite shitty Christmas present? Tell me all about it! Especially if I gave it to you!!!