Monday, December 21, 2009

Presents

For the past 18 years or so, my parents' Christmas gift to my brother and me has been money, to make sure everyone in our family knows what they're worth. Every December my Mom is all, "Seriously, don't expect anything under the tree this year, kids" and immediately after begins to feel guilty and will go out and buy us small things that we, in turn, pretend to like, lest we hurt her feelings. But there have been a few seasons where I flat out refused to participate in this charade, gifts being the following:

1. A keychain that doubles as a voice recorder. Now, the purpose of this, is to help you remember where you parked the car when you drive to the mall,airport, etc. When I reminded my Mom of the fact that I hadn't owned a car for at least the past six years, her response was, "Well I know you like to get pretty drunk..." Nothing says Merry Christmas like your Mom thinking you are so much of an alkie that you have trouble remembering WHERE YOU LIVE.

2. Pajama pants. You're probably thinking, "What's wrong with pajama pants? Who doesn't like spending their Sundays laying around and watching porn in a pair of these?" And you would be correct, because I certainly do, but hear me out.

I pack lightly when I travel and sleep in my underpants 97% of the time, so I see no point in taking up valuable smuggled drugs space with sleepwear. When I visit my parents, I just grab a pair of my Dad's pajama pants to go lay on their couch and watch TV in, as has been the case for many years. Last Christmas, my Mom pulled the usual, "I mean it, NOTHING under the tree" and so I was surprised to find a solitary package for me, from my Dad.

Thoughtful Dad-O had taken a pair of his old pj pants and gift-wrapped them. They weren't even washed first. He had no idea why I gave him a are you fucking kidding me look and honestly thought I liked his old, mens, humungous, ratty pair so much that I would rather have them than my own. Now, this was endearing on some level, but you have to admit, a normal parent would just go to fucking Walmart and buy their kid their very own sweatpants.

3. I'm going to look into my crystal ball for a mo, and give the third spot to this year's present and I don't even know what it is yet. What I do know is that my parents were in Florida, driving past a K-Mart that was going out of business, so they stopped and picked up something for me that was reduced 75% off, making the grand total $0.79. My Dad called me laughing to tell me that was the only present I was getting.


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