Ebola. Please don’t give me ebola for Christmas.
Yep, I’m with you too. If I want something the chances are I’ve already bought it for myself. And I’m just not good at looking and sounding grateful for something I don’t want and will never use.
OK, I’ll grant one exception - a whiskey that I am not familiar with. That’s it.
j
Another “anything” here. If you see something at any time of year that you know id like, sure, get it. Ill probably appreciate it. But don’t do because of the stupid bullshit holiday says you have to. And certainly don’t expect anything from me.
What I really want is for you to bring a box for me to fill up with stuff for you to take home with you.
Luggage. Suitcases. Specialty boxes with handles. PLEASE! There is a REASON why we don’t have any!
We’ve done the whole suitcases business, we were an Army family, and we did suitcases for years and years. We finally got rid of the damned things. And we do NOT want any more. Grocery tote bags work fine for us now. Really.
And we’re too old to give a damn about “how it looks.”
~VOW
Okay, I promise I won’t get you any of that stuff, but I have to ask, what do you wear when you are lounging around at home? Nothing? Or do you just spend all your time engaged in activities and never lounge around at all?
I’m pretty easygoing when it comes to gifts - I’ll accept anything, but if you give me chocolate or coffee, it’s going to be passed on to someone who can use it.
Those boxed sets of scented lotion/body wash/shampoo. Tends to be re-gifted.
I don’t like most artificial fragrances and really don’t want to go around smelling that shit on my own skin for hours.
Look, I understand these are the usual gift choice for “woman I don’t know” which is why I’ll re-gift … to some chick I don’t know well, either. Eventually.
Stuff. Stuff for the sake of stuff. I just don’t need stuff. Get me a consumable if you don’t know what to get me, but stop drowning me in stuff.
Clothes, and here I’m talking to you, Mum. You just pick random sizes! Thanks for the size 10 shirt, the size 16 underpants and the size 26 PJs. Goodwill will love them!
I’ll add that foo-foo smelling stuff in “gift sets.” I cannot wear cologne any more, and steering my cart down the laundry detergent aisle at the grocery store makes my lungs hurt.
I don’t want candles, either.
I WILL take the chocolate and coffee that SpoilerVirgin doesn’t want! 
~VOW
I don’t want candles, and I can buy my own hand location.
Clothing, specially clothing that’s completely different from anything I usually wear. You’re not allowed to turn Christmas into an intervention on my wardrobe.
Perfume you’re expecting me to wear. I’ll use it as alcohol to clean sticker marks.
Easter swag. Giving cups decorated with Easter bunnies for Christmas to the widow and the spinster was a particularly “WTF? Is she actually this rude, or actually this ignorant?” moment. Then again, the last time she got a bit too much alcohol was at the baptism of our common Nephew-by-Adoption and she slurred at me (the aforementioned spinster) that “y’ain’t a real woman unless y’v given birth,” so she’s definitely as sensitive as the fingernails of a dead elephant…
I have a firm belief that proper manners requires one to display a gift prominently when the giver is visiting once.
From that point forward, there are no strings attached.
Seriously, life is too short to worry about hurting feelings by not keeping a gift displayed for 20 years, and who are you fooling anyway–they do the same thing with decorative gifts they receive.
I regularly remind my wife of this. Once the person has seen their gift in view in our home, it is eligible for retirement any time she feels like changing things up a bit.
Sounds like there should be a post-Christmas SDMB gift swap.
Chocolate. It can be easily regifted, but I just don’t have a sweet tooth any longer.
Send your address and you can have an unopened bottle of schnapps
Send the scnapps to DorkVader. He’s been having sinus problems!
~VOW
A gift card for the local brothel. Same thing, year after year. They are so sick of me.
My adult daughter apparently forgot she gave me the same quaint but useless retro-punk box thingy twice. I don’t need another this Xmas, thanks baby.
I have enough mandolins at the moment. No more Native American language courses either, please. Nor adorable pets.
Books by right-wing political shits (but I repeat myself) will be shredded to mulch our toxic plants garden. I’ll donate lefty books to the county library.
I’ve needed no neckties since 1987.
Chocolate and coffee are gratefully accepted at my house. So is anything with alcohol in it. Other than that, no thanks, I’m good.