Aw, How Sweet

Stupid, stupid Christmas. I now remember why this holiday annoys me so much every year.

Thing is, if I can get out of having to give or receive presents, everything is fine. If all we do on Christmas is get together, cook an enormous meal, drink copious amounts of domestic beer and watch basketball, then all is right with the world. Or we can go to a movie or a diner or have a snowball fight. All of these things make me a happy camper all year long.

What doesn't make me a happy camper is giving gifts. Even receiving gifts can be a pain in the ass. You might be thinking that I mean, when someone gives you a gift that proves they have no idea who you are, or gives you something you already own ten of, that pretending to be blown away by said gift can be annoying. Oh no. This time I mean something much worse.

I mentioned to the 'Stoph that I'd like to have a food processor sometime in the next few years. Ever instinctually inclined toward self-preservation, he carefully asked if a kitchen gadget wasn't the kind of gift that gets husbands the silent treatment until the following Christmas, and I assured him that as cooking is sort of a hobby of mine that I would love to have it any time of the year, even at Christmas.

Then he asks me what kind I'd like. I tell him, the most important thing it should do is puree. Aside from that a bit of fine chopping would be nice but its primary purpose would be to liquify vegetables, squashes and legumes for soups. So then he asks if I want a hand-held one or a stationary one and how big the capacity should be. Tiring a bit of basically picking out my own gift, I wearily tell him what I'd prefer.

But is it over yet? No, it is not over. During the course of the last month, I shit you not, this guy has asked me no fewer than ten times what again it is I want the machine to do. We have now had no fewer than ten several minutes-long conversations about this one stupid machine that is supposed to serve one stupid purpose. Finally he got tired of having to remember the two words, "Pu" and "ree" and asked me to come to the store with him to pick it out.

!!!!!!!

Is that really the way things are done in the normal-people world? Not only do I know exactly what kind of thing I'm getting, but I don't even get to be surprised at all, knowing exactly which model it is? I was blown. away. But, ever the good woman to the depressingly uninspired man, I agreed to go with him to show him the KIND of mixer I'm talking about. So on Saturday afternoon, we planned on going, but wound up sitting around the apartment all afternoon until I had to leave to meet some friends. As I'm getting ready to leave the house, he goes, "So are we going to the store?"

"No, I don't have time now."

(dripping with sarcasm) "Thanks."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No. He. Di'int.

I go, "Sorry, did you just say 'thanks'?"

(groaning cos he knows he's in trouble) "Ayep." (sigh)

Cue neck-gyrating, finger-waving, hands-on-hips, oh-hell-no mini-lecture about how it's bad enough that he can't remember the words "pu" and "ree" but now I get attitude about ruining his whole fucking day because what, it's the end of the world if you don't go today? He has the nerve to respond,

"Well, I just want to get it over with."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Because you're the only person in the world? If I want my gift I better jump when you say jump? We both sat around the house the same as the other and you KNEW what time I had to leave, oh hell no, you know what? I am so sick and fucking tired of talking about this thing, if I'd have known it would ruin your life to get the damned thing I'd have never mentioned it in the first place. Forget about it. I am so fucking over it. You're on your own. Don't buy it if you don't want to but the dialogue about the fucking thing is OVER.

I can't see the point of raping all the magic away from Christmas by forcing your loved one to do all the work for you. What is the point of buying someone a gift if there is zero element of surprise? If we did things the way he wanted to do them, I'd honestly rather buy the damn thing myself, on my own time, without pressure or whingeing from a grown-ass man. If it's the thought that counts, then he deserves a punch on the nose right about now.

But that's what Christmas does to the unwilling. If it doesn't give you any joy to give gifts, why not just opt out of it? I know I say this every year, but I swear--this is the last year I'm exchanging gifts with ANYONE. I hate it. Hate buying them, and now I even hate receiving them.

After I was done telling the 'Stoph where to shove it, I went out with people who I will hopefully never exchange presents with, and had a jolly good time. The end.