Someone please tell my mother that a country applique sweatshirt is never the perfect gift.
Not for the girl who smokes and wears all black.
And then because I felt guilty and couldn’t throw it out or give it away, it moved with me six times.
Ah, resentment. The gift that keeps on giving.
I agree that coffee is a fine gift.
The Clapper might be okay but the clap is right out.
I don’t think that the Super Weight-Loss Formula would make the perfect Xmas gift- unless you planned to start a fight…
Unless you consider a frying pan upside the head a favorable response.
It depends on who the gift is being given to, and, of course, how much personal effort had to go into filling the vat and drowning the lemur.
No, no, Gary, a new mop. That’ll make her happy.
You know what I hate? Not just the “this will be the perfect gift” crap, although that’s bad enough. No, what I hate are the ads where we’re shown the recipient opening the gift, holding it up, and proceding to fake an orgasm right there on the screen. Every single fucking thing, to use Lobsang’s felicitious phrase, is not only a perfect gift, but such a perfect gift that your loved ones, on receiving it, will convulse with ecstacy. Uh huh. You know, I like getting gifts, and some gifts really please me quite a lot, but somehow I’ve never been inspired to behave quite like the folks on TV when they open up their new Dustbuster ™. And if any of my friends or family members act that way this Christmas, I’ll be strongly tempted to recommend psychiatric help.
Well, a few other less than optimally perfect Christmas gifts might be:
Halloween Decorations
lice
an all-expenses paid trip to Iraq
the gift of loneliness
an intact litter of almost-cats-now kittens, all 13 of them
a plastic grocery bag containing about 200 more grocery bags
already-used staples
toothpicks
cockroach frass in a decorative box
nothing whatsoever
A mezuzah?
Hey! I got my wifey a mop for Christmas last year! This year I’m gettin’ her a handle for it. She’ll be so pleased…
I saw a commercial the other day (I think it was for Best Buy) where a guy bought his wife a huge present and when she opened it and saw that it was a treadmill, she turns around with her hands on her hips and asks, “Oh, so now you think I’m fat?”
“Uh, no honey…um…I…uh…”
Any kind of cardio equipment for the wife has got the be the Best. Present. Ever.
But what about a holiday-themed applique sweatshirt? Huh? Maybe some beads sewnon the felt Christmas tree as ornaments…or how about a sweater with an intarsia bow?
A sweatshirt with a wolf theme on it that’s one size too small and reeks faintly of B.O.
See, that’s just it. You guys making up fictitious bad Christmas gifts simply can’t compete with reality.
Back at Halloween, I got, through the magic of “order one thing and automatically sign up for every catalog ever printed, anywhere, ever” technology, a catalog called, appropriately enough, Things You Never Knew Existed.
In it, amongst the (presumably artifical) severed heads in jars, and motorized remote-controlled desktop-mounted fists that, when activated, flip passersby the bird, was- I kid you not- Dog Poop Christmas Tree Ornaments.
(Again, presumably artificial.)
Dog poop tree ornaments. Really. As far as “prefect” gifts go, I can see Jeff Foxworthy’s second cousin’s grandmother, the one who had to move the transmission out of the bathtub so she could wash her good tube top for cousins Bubba and Earmaline’s wedding out front of the double-wide, next to the rusting hulk of the Dodge Dart, looking at those ornaments and going “Now that’s tacky.”
I don’t think a football is a very good present.
venereal diease as a Christams present is a faux pas.
Herpes is a good Christmas Present, is it not?
Sausage links that have been cooked in the microwave for two and a half hours are not the perfect holiday gift. Even if you put a nice bow on them.
But coffee, yeah. Not Dunin’ Donuts coffee. Good coffee, like maybe a pound of Kona.
Ten pounds of used toilet paper is not the perfect Christmas gift.
A three night stay at Neverland for the nieces and nephews?