Hillary Clinton is running for president. All the talking heads are chattering about the meaning of this. According to them, she’s going to win the Primaries. I think that is silly talk this early in the game. Obama has barely had his day in the sun, and John Edwards is started to make a lot of sense.
I’m not sure how I feel about Hillary running. I crazy like that woman, don’t get me wrong. She’s tough, bitchy, smart, and apart from her banal power suits, she’s a formidable opponent for anyone, especially another politician wearing a banal power suit.
Is she formidable enough, though? What bothers me is that when I lived in San Francisco, a liberal city by any standards, I knew a lot of women (and men) who hated Hillary. Out here in Vegas, where the sand and dry air seem to be fertile breeding ground for Republicans, she’s overly hated. Then there is the Deep South. My Southern relations pray to God, Jesus, W, and Faith Hill that the “Yankee senator bitch” will die a violent tar and feathers death.” Hey, that’s their words, not mine.
I always cringe at such Hillary-bashing. Personally, she only let me down once: I was annoyed that she defended Bill during the Lewinsky thing. If my husband told me he didn’t have sex with a chubby intern, but had instead played cigar sex with her and gotten a blowjob, I would have kicked his butt out on the street quicker than you can say “We took New Hampshire.” If Hillary would have kicked Bill's butt out on the street, no matter how much we liked him as President, I think she would have shed herself of some baggage that may haunt her to this day, which could also translate into more votes.
But that’s old news. The new news is that Hillary is running. I would love to see her become president. I would also love to win Mega Bucks, lose the ten pounds I’ve been trying to lose since 1998, develop gracefulness, never have to deal with a jackass again, and rid myself of crows feet. Since none of that is likely to happen, I can only assume that if Hillary wins the primary, she’ll lose the presidency due to all the bad press she’s had over the years (deserved or not) and we will have another four years, (at least) of a Republican president.
Please, I have a hangover from the current presidency. Another Republican is likely to make my head explode.
January 21, 2007
January 12, 2007
Phantom of the Operatic Birthday
Today I turned forty-six, or as I now think of it, forty-sick. Screw the forties, I’m already wondering how I will spend the big 5 Oh God. Maybe I’ll get some friends together and do a Sonoma weekend, or if I have the bucks, we’ll go to France and drink actual champagne in the actual champagne region. My luck, I’ll be snowed in at some airport in the Midwest reading the latest issue of People.
Whatever I’m doing, I won’t be going to the Phantom of the Opera in Las Vegas, which is what we did tonight. First of all, Phantom is at the Venetian, and it just so happens that there is a porn convention at the Venetian this weekend. Seriously. I had forgotten this and I spent my first five minutes in the casino wondering how the hobags in Vegas could have actually gotten even more slutty. I saw several woman wearing just their bras (granted, patent leather bras) and tight skirts slit up to their hidden treasures, with go-go style boots. Then I saw some other women wearing a tight, cropped shirt and THEIR UNDERWEAR, with the ubiquitous go-go boots. I was despairing that not only was I forty-six, but I had also turned into Lawrence Welk, when I remembered that it wasn’t just that all women but me were getting more slutty, they were just porn stars.
I also saw a really, really, really fat porn star wearing nearly nothing. People were taking photos of her and they seemed impressed. She looked like Divine, but I think she was an actual woman. Plus, Divine is dead.
Then there was the Phantom. I never saw the Broadway production, but I did see the movie. That’s the kind of thing people in Vegas say with pride, by the way. Broadway is too high-brow for us, plus it’s in NYC. Still, this production did the concept of Cheesy Even for Vegas wrong. From the set that wobbled, to the plastic-doll mannequins in the “boxed seats,” to the lead actress who looked like Celion Dion on a bad day (which is really bad), this show was just a mess. Worst of all, the actor playing the Phantom got his roles crossed and channeled a combination of the Rain Man and Benjy Compson from Faulkner’s “The Sound and the Fury.” He spazzed-out during the finale, but it’s okay because it was his idea of acting. All I could do was laugh. My jaw dropped, however, when the two rows ahead of me stood and gave him an ovation. That’s Vegas for you. We’re the town that loves you even when you are awful bad. Hence, Celion’s run at Caesers.
As if to punctuate my feelings about turning forty-sick, I mean forty-six, it snowed in Vegas today. If you know me, you know that the one thing I hate more than snakes, a Bush in office, or weight gain is cold weather. Snow on my birthday is like, I don’t know, a spasmodic Phantom of the Opera.
No blog on Vegas would be complete without a mention of Sinatra, so as my b-day winds down, I’ve been thinking of some of my favorite lyrics that he sung. In particular, I’m reminded of “It was a Very Good Year,” which Sinatra made into a hit:
“But now the days grow short
I’m in the autumn of the year
And now I think of my life as a vintage wine
From fine old kegs
From the brim to the dregs
And it poured sweet and clear
It was a very good year
It was a mess of good years.”
Two things about these lyrics strike me. One, I like the use of starting sentences with And or But, and two, the idea of wine pouring sweet and clear makes me think it’s a Riesling, and I hate Riesling. Otherwise, I like the sentiment.
It was a mess of a day, but all in all, it has been some messy good years.
As Sinatra would say, “May you live 100 years, and the last face you see be mine.”
Whatever I’m doing, I won’t be going to the Phantom of the Opera in Las Vegas, which is what we did tonight. First of all, Phantom is at the Venetian, and it just so happens that there is a porn convention at the Venetian this weekend. Seriously. I had forgotten this and I spent my first five minutes in the casino wondering how the hobags in Vegas could have actually gotten even more slutty. I saw several woman wearing just their bras (granted, patent leather bras) and tight skirts slit up to their hidden treasures, with go-go style boots. Then I saw some other women wearing a tight, cropped shirt and THEIR UNDERWEAR, with the ubiquitous go-go boots. I was despairing that not only was I forty-six, but I had also turned into Lawrence Welk, when I remembered that it wasn’t just that all women but me were getting more slutty, they were just porn stars.
I also saw a really, really, really fat porn star wearing nearly nothing. People were taking photos of her and they seemed impressed. She looked like Divine, but I think she was an actual woman. Plus, Divine is dead.
Then there was the Phantom. I never saw the Broadway production, but I did see the movie. That’s the kind of thing people in Vegas say with pride, by the way. Broadway is too high-brow for us, plus it’s in NYC. Still, this production did the concept of Cheesy Even for Vegas wrong. From the set that wobbled, to the plastic-doll mannequins in the “boxed seats,” to the lead actress who looked like Celion Dion on a bad day (which is really bad), this show was just a mess. Worst of all, the actor playing the Phantom got his roles crossed and channeled a combination of the Rain Man and Benjy Compson from Faulkner’s “The Sound and the Fury.” He spazzed-out during the finale, but it’s okay because it was his idea of acting. All I could do was laugh. My jaw dropped, however, when the two rows ahead of me stood and gave him an ovation. That’s Vegas for you. We’re the town that loves you even when you are awful bad. Hence, Celion’s run at Caesers.
As if to punctuate my feelings about turning forty-sick, I mean forty-six, it snowed in Vegas today. If you know me, you know that the one thing I hate more than snakes, a Bush in office, or weight gain is cold weather. Snow on my birthday is like, I don’t know, a spasmodic Phantom of the Opera.
No blog on Vegas would be complete without a mention of Sinatra, so as my b-day winds down, I’ve been thinking of some of my favorite lyrics that he sung. In particular, I’m reminded of “It was a Very Good Year,” which Sinatra made into a hit:
“But now the days grow short
I’m in the autumn of the year
And now I think of my life as a vintage wine
From fine old kegs
From the brim to the dregs
And it poured sweet and clear
It was a very good year
It was a mess of good years.”
Two things about these lyrics strike me. One, I like the use of starting sentences with And or But, and two, the idea of wine pouring sweet and clear makes me think it’s a Riesling, and I hate Riesling. Otherwise, I like the sentiment.
It was a mess of a day, but all in all, it has been some messy good years.
As Sinatra would say, “May you live 100 years, and the last face you see be mine.”
January 07, 2007
When Insults Were Classy
We've all been in a situation where we wish we had a zinger of a come-back. Something, as I call it, that will put the other person in therapy for years to come. A friend emailed me the following quotes from smart people skilled in the art of the insult. I wish I could credit where these quotes were pulled from, I only know they are making there way around the interent in a series of mass emails. Read, enjoy, learn, then zing:
"He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire."
-- Winston Churchill
"A modest little person, with much to be modest about."
-- Winston Churchill
"I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great
pleasure."
-- Clarence Darrow
"He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the
dictionary."
-- William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway)
"Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?"
-- Ernest Hemingway (about William Faulkner)
"Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time
reading it."
-- Moses Hadas
"He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I
know."
-- Abraham Lincoln
"I've had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn't it."
-- Groucho Marx
"I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved
of it."
-- Mark Twain
"He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends."
-- Oscar Wilde
"I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play, bring a
friend... if you have one."
-- George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill
"Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second...if there is
one."
-- Winston Churchill, in response
"I feel so miserable without you, it's almost like having you here."
-- Stephen Bishop
"He is a self-made man and worships his creator."
-- John Bright
"I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing trivial."
-- Irvin S. Cobb
"He is not only dull himself, he is the cause of dullness in others."
-- Samuel Johnson
"He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up."
-- Paul Keating
"He had delusions of adequacy."
-- Walter Kerr
"There's nothing wrong with you that reincarnation won't cure."
-- Jack E. Leonard
"He has the attention span of a lightning bolt."
-- Robert Redford
"They never open their mouths without subtracting from the sum of human
knowledge."
-- Thomas Brackett Reed
"He inherited some good instincts from his Quaker forebears, but by
diligent hard work, he overcame them."
-- James Reston (about Richard Nixon)
"In order to avoid being called a flirt, she always yielded easily."
-- Charles, Count Talleyrand
"He loves nature in spite of what it did to him."
-- Forrest Tucker
"Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on
it?"
-- Mark Twain
"His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork."
-- Mae West
"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go."
-- Oscar Wilde
"He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lamp-posts...for support
rather than illumination."
-- Andrew Lang (1844-1912)
"He has Van Gogh's ear for music."
-- Billy Wilder
"He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire."
-- Winston Churchill
"A modest little person, with much to be modest about."
-- Winston Churchill
"I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great
pleasure."
-- Clarence Darrow
"He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the
dictionary."
-- William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway)
"Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?"
-- Ernest Hemingway (about William Faulkner)
"Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time
reading it."
-- Moses Hadas
"He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I
know."
-- Abraham Lincoln
"I've had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn't it."
-- Groucho Marx
"I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved
of it."
-- Mark Twain
"He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends."
-- Oscar Wilde
"I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play, bring a
friend... if you have one."
-- George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill
"Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second...if there is
one."
-- Winston Churchill, in response
"I feel so miserable without you, it's almost like having you here."
-- Stephen Bishop
"He is a self-made man and worships his creator."
-- John Bright
"I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing trivial."
-- Irvin S. Cobb
"He is not only dull himself, he is the cause of dullness in others."
-- Samuel Johnson
"He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up."
-- Paul Keating
"He had delusions of adequacy."
-- Walter Kerr
"There's nothing wrong with you that reincarnation won't cure."
-- Jack E. Leonard
"He has the attention span of a lightning bolt."
-- Robert Redford
"They never open their mouths without subtracting from the sum of human
knowledge."
-- Thomas Brackett Reed
"He inherited some good instincts from his Quaker forebears, but by
diligent hard work, he overcame them."
-- James Reston (about Richard Nixon)
"In order to avoid being called a flirt, she always yielded easily."
-- Charles, Count Talleyrand
"He loves nature in spite of what it did to him."
-- Forrest Tucker
"Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on
it?"
-- Mark Twain
"His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork."
-- Mae West
"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go."
-- Oscar Wilde
"He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lamp-posts...for support
rather than illumination."
-- Andrew Lang (1844-1912)
"He has Van Gogh's ear for music."
-- Billy Wilder
January 06, 2007
Fido Gets Thin
Sometimes, Americans do embarrassing things. Pfizer is often behind it. They recently came out with diet drugs for dogs. Evidently, not only are we getting fatter, but so are our dogs.
Okay, that does it. Put down the hot dog. Throw it away. Do not give it to you dog.
Diet pills have side-effects, hasn't anyone heard. I know. I've taken them. I'm more wired with diet pills than a coke-head at midnight. Once, after popping one in an attempt to shed five pounds, which has now become fifteen pounds, someone said to me, "Your eyes look so hollow I think I can see the back of your head." Then they asked me if I was okay. I showed them my pills. They backed away gently.
If you are tempted to put Fido on diet pills, don't. Walk Fido, and in the process, hopefully, you'll both get skinnier asses.
December 30, 2006
Wrapping up 2006
I asked Team Lablogda to weigh in on the big event(s) of the year. Here is what they said:
Ironhuff sez:
Republicans have the hottest Gay Porn.
Mark Foley's instant messages will go down in the Gay Porn Hall of Fame. His folksy banter and "Coach" like demenor have a seductive quality that puts Michael Jackson to shame. Perhaps he could team up and Michael could start with the boys when they are around 11 years and once they lose their last ounce of boyhood, Foley could take over. That's the problem with sexual repression. I'll take a good old fashioned c__k sucking Democrat who revels in the sexual freedom of consenting adults, over a deeply repressed, closeted, God-Fearing, gun toting Republican who seems to grasp their guns in some sort of Freudian substitution for the man-rod they would rather be clasping.
ViewfromABroad sez:
Event of the Year:
Rumsfeld stepping down. No if ands or buts about it.
2nd Place: South Dakota voting out that nightmare abortion law (should try to get you some details on that). Ha.Ha.Ha.
What else puts the yippee in my skippee:
Jeff Skilling is finally going 'to the big house' - though I think he should've had time added to his sentence for Kenneth Lay's untimely death. Those f____rs owe us all big time.
2nd place prize for untimely death: Augusto Pinochet. So pissed that he never had to stand trial by a jury of what couldn't possibly be his peers, they would've had too much integrity-
Word of the Year: Schaudenfreude
the happiness I felt when I looked at the photo of Bill Frist leaving the building...
Frankie sez:
Event(s) of the year:
Demo's take control of the House and Senate -- the significance is just to obvious.
Stay the course in Iraq -- full steam ahead (catch phrases from the Pres and Veep). This is similar to the "light at the end of the tunnel" phrase used by Nixon during Viet Nam. Unfortunately the light at the end of the tunnel was a freight train coming at us. I fear the same will be true of Iraq - only worse. Americans finally come to grips with what happens when we try to "impose" US style democracies. 2006 really marked the turning point in the polls. Iraq will be seen as another misadventure, but on a colossal scale.
Binx sex:
Event of the year:
All of the above. However, for me, it culminated this past Thursday. I was home from work, watching "The View," which I have only seen a couple times during its run. The only two people I recognize are Barabara and Rosie. There is a skinny Republican chick, and a chunky Democratic chick. The Chunky one is going off on Bush, how he doesn't read the papers, doesn't seek advice, doesn't listen to anyone, and is basically a huge loser. The Audience APPLAUD WILDLY. I may not know a lot abou "The View," but I know Middle America likes it. And that applause in the studio audience was Middle America, namely the women, giving a big flip off to George W. Bush. It's official. The country has shifted. We are done with Redneck Republicans. Happy F_____g New Year, everyone.
Word of the Year: It's a cliche, but I gotta go with Truthiness. It may be a real word, but coming from W, it was just downright funny. And that's the god's honest truthiness.
Ironhuff sez:
Republicans have the hottest Gay Porn.
Mark Foley's instant messages will go down in the Gay Porn Hall of Fame. His folksy banter and "Coach" like demenor have a seductive quality that puts Michael Jackson to shame. Perhaps he could team up and Michael could start with the boys when they are around 11 years and once they lose their last ounce of boyhood, Foley could take over. That's the problem with sexual repression. I'll take a good old fashioned c__k sucking Democrat who revels in the sexual freedom of consenting adults, over a deeply repressed, closeted, God-Fearing, gun toting Republican who seems to grasp their guns in some sort of Freudian substitution for the man-rod they would rather be clasping.
ViewfromABroad sez:
Event of the Year:
Rumsfeld stepping down. No if ands or buts about it.
2nd Place: South Dakota voting out that nightmare abortion law (should try to get you some details on that). Ha.Ha.Ha.
What else puts the yippee in my skippee:
Jeff Skilling is finally going 'to the big house' - though I think he should've had time added to his sentence for Kenneth Lay's untimely death. Those f____rs owe us all big time.
2nd place prize for untimely death: Augusto Pinochet. So pissed that he never had to stand trial by a jury of what couldn't possibly be his peers, they would've had too much integrity-
Word of the Year: Schaudenfreude
the happiness I felt when I looked at the photo of Bill Frist leaving the building...
Frankie sez:
Event(s) of the year:
Demo's take control of the House and Senate -- the significance is just to obvious.
Stay the course in Iraq -- full steam ahead (catch phrases from the Pres and Veep). This is similar to the "light at the end of the tunnel" phrase used by Nixon during Viet Nam. Unfortunately the light at the end of the tunnel was a freight train coming at us. I fear the same will be true of Iraq - only worse. Americans finally come to grips with what happens when we try to "impose" US style democracies. 2006 really marked the turning point in the polls. Iraq will be seen as another misadventure, but on a colossal scale.
Binx sex:
Event of the year:
All of the above. However, for me, it culminated this past Thursday. I was home from work, watching "The View," which I have only seen a couple times during its run. The only two people I recognize are Barabara and Rosie. There is a skinny Republican chick, and a chunky Democratic chick. The Chunky one is going off on Bush, how he doesn't read the papers, doesn't seek advice, doesn't listen to anyone, and is basically a huge loser. The Audience APPLAUD WILDLY. I may not know a lot abou "The View," but I know Middle America likes it. And that applause in the studio audience was Middle America, namely the women, giving a big flip off to George W. Bush. It's official. The country has shifted. We are done with Redneck Republicans. Happy F_____g New Year, everyone.
Word of the Year: It's a cliche, but I gotta go with Truthiness. It may be a real word, but coming from W, it was just downright funny. And that's the god's honest truthiness.
December 28, 2006
The Amazingly Bad Neighbors
Half-way down the block from my house, past the former porn star, across the street from the interracial lesbian couple, lives the biggest white trash ever to escape the hills of Arkansas. I don’t know their names. They are so damn trashy even I won’t speak to them. Yeah, they are THAT bad.
They have two little boys who are about four feet tall and three feet tall, respectively. I figure that means the kids are not even in first grade, but I don’t know how to match kids age with their size.
They play in the middle of the street unsupervised a lot, which means I like to drive past them fast, like I am going to hit them, then honk my horn and flip them off. Their parents’ are not around, though the interracial lesbian couple can often be seen standing in their front doorway looking concerned for the kids. So far, they haven’t turned me in to the police, so I keep up the antics.
For Christmas this year, the bad parents took things too far. They got the kids one of those mobile basketball hoops – it stands about nine feet high. They put it at the end of the driveway and the kids played hoops in our street, as if this were a charming Brooklyn scene, circa 1950. They also got the smaller tyke a motorized tiny tot car that HE DRIVES IN THE STREET. Did I mention they did all this unsupervised?
Needless to say, I felt in my element. I tried to run over the kids, but Hubby kept admonishing me, telling me that it would not be as fun for me as I imagined, and that I would not look good in prison orange. He doesn’t get it. I wasn’t really going to plow them down. I just wanted to scare them into therapy that would last into their fifties.
At the same time, I was deeply concerned about property values for the homes on my street. That hoop really trashed up the place. I could not get over the parents’ thoughtlessness for their neighbors. First, their kids make a tricky obstacle course, and second, that hoop devalues my home by a good 100K. I go from living in a respectable neighborhood with a former porn star and a mixed lesbian couple, to living on a dead-end street littered with tots and hoops.
I started to write a letter to the neighbors, as well as the neighborhood association, and hubby was going to call the police, he said, if he saw the tinier tot in the street again driving around in his midget car. Alas, someone must have beat us to the punch, as the kids are now inside, the hoop is gone and my street is looking semi-middle class again.
Of course, it is an insanely windy day in Vegas. Hubby thinks the parents’ simply are keeping the kids inside. I think he’s wrong, personally. They let the kids play IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET, did I mention, UNSUPERVISED? Why should some hurricane force winds suddenly cause them to have parenting skills?
Please God, or W, or Frank Sinatra’s ghost, or whoever is in charge, please change this one thing in the world: you have to have a license to buy a gun, but you don’t need anything but sperm and egg to have a kid? Controller of the Universe, please right this wrong.
They have two little boys who are about four feet tall and three feet tall, respectively. I figure that means the kids are not even in first grade, but I don’t know how to match kids age with their size.
They play in the middle of the street unsupervised a lot, which means I like to drive past them fast, like I am going to hit them, then honk my horn and flip them off. Their parents’ are not around, though the interracial lesbian couple can often be seen standing in their front doorway looking concerned for the kids. So far, they haven’t turned me in to the police, so I keep up the antics.
For Christmas this year, the bad parents took things too far. They got the kids one of those mobile basketball hoops – it stands about nine feet high. They put it at the end of the driveway and the kids played hoops in our street, as if this were a charming Brooklyn scene, circa 1950. They also got the smaller tyke a motorized tiny tot car that HE DRIVES IN THE STREET. Did I mention they did all this unsupervised?
Needless to say, I felt in my element. I tried to run over the kids, but Hubby kept admonishing me, telling me that it would not be as fun for me as I imagined, and that I would not look good in prison orange. He doesn’t get it. I wasn’t really going to plow them down. I just wanted to scare them into therapy that would last into their fifties.
At the same time, I was deeply concerned about property values for the homes on my street. That hoop really trashed up the place. I could not get over the parents’ thoughtlessness for their neighbors. First, their kids make a tricky obstacle course, and second, that hoop devalues my home by a good 100K. I go from living in a respectable neighborhood with a former porn star and a mixed lesbian couple, to living on a dead-end street littered with tots and hoops.
I started to write a letter to the neighbors, as well as the neighborhood association, and hubby was going to call the police, he said, if he saw the tinier tot in the street again driving around in his midget car. Alas, someone must have beat us to the punch, as the kids are now inside, the hoop is gone and my street is looking semi-middle class again.
Of course, it is an insanely windy day in Vegas. Hubby thinks the parents’ simply are keeping the kids inside. I think he’s wrong, personally. They let the kids play IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET, did I mention, UNSUPERVISED? Why should some hurricane force winds suddenly cause them to have parenting skills?
Please God, or W, or Frank Sinatra’s ghost, or whoever is in charge, please change this one thing in the world: you have to have a license to buy a gun, but you don’t need anything but sperm and egg to have a kid? Controller of the Universe, please right this wrong.
December 24, 2006
But What Were You Thinking?
Whenever I opened up a really bad gift that someone had given me, my husband used to say, "Well it's the thought that counts." Now he says, "It's the thought that counts, but what were they thinking?"
I'm someone who believs that Christmas is all about the gift-giving. It's not a holiday for the religious, it's a bonanza for the retailer, and, with luck, for me if I get a bunch of gifts.
I used to be grateful for any gift I got, but over the years, I've come to spot the gifts that had some thought put into it versus the ones given by people who just felt obligated to get me something so therefore, just got me any old thing. Hence, the freaking coasters with birds on them someone gave me from New Zealand. Or the bad CD I was given that came out of a discount bin at Target. It was a compilation of stars that I like to make fun of (Whitney, Celine, etc).
Since I'm into the lists thing these days, here's my list of Lessons I've Learned from Gift-Givers' Mistakes. Or, as Hubby would say, "What were you thinking?
1) If you are going to regift, know that I'll know it's a regift. If you didn't like it, why would I?
2) Remember what you gave me last year, and please don't give it to me again this year. Someone I know has given me the same FREE WITH PURCHASE make-up bag two years running. I get it, you think I'm vain, and you don't think much of me. Next year, how about you not give me a gift? It would hurt less.
3) Wrap it up. Don't hand me something unwrapped and go, "Here."
4) If you are going to buy clothes, for God's sake, at least shoot for the proximity of my taste. Have you ever seen me wear a peasant blouse? No? Why would I want to start now?
5) Nothing says, Merry Christmas like a gift card. If you are really feeling lazy and don't want to get someone a gift, yet feel obligated to (maybe because they give you one) just give them a $25 gift card from a store that you think they might like. If they don't cook, don't buy one from Williams Sonoma. If they haven't picked up a book since Junior High English, a certificate from Borders is a bad idea. If they drink, a certificate from the liquor store is perfect. Which leads me to #6
6) Nothing says Merry Xmas like hooch.
I'm someone who believs that Christmas is all about the gift-giving. It's not a holiday for the religious, it's a bonanza for the retailer, and, with luck, for me if I get a bunch of gifts.
I used to be grateful for any gift I got, but over the years, I've come to spot the gifts that had some thought put into it versus the ones given by people who just felt obligated to get me something so therefore, just got me any old thing. Hence, the freaking coasters with birds on them someone gave me from New Zealand. Or the bad CD I was given that came out of a discount bin at Target. It was a compilation of stars that I like to make fun of (Whitney, Celine, etc).
Since I'm into the lists thing these days, here's my list of Lessons I've Learned from Gift-Givers' Mistakes. Or, as Hubby would say, "What were you thinking?
1) If you are going to regift, know that I'll know it's a regift. If you didn't like it, why would I?
2) Remember what you gave me last year, and please don't give it to me again this year. Someone I know has given me the same FREE WITH PURCHASE make-up bag two years running. I get it, you think I'm vain, and you don't think much of me. Next year, how about you not give me a gift? It would hurt less.
3) Wrap it up. Don't hand me something unwrapped and go, "Here."
4) If you are going to buy clothes, for God's sake, at least shoot for the proximity of my taste. Have you ever seen me wear a peasant blouse? No? Why would I want to start now?
5) Nothing says, Merry Christmas like a gift card. If you are really feeling lazy and don't want to get someone a gift, yet feel obligated to (maybe because they give you one) just give them a $25 gift card from a store that you think they might like. If they don't cook, don't buy one from Williams Sonoma. If they haven't picked up a book since Junior High English, a certificate from Borders is a bad idea. If they drink, a certificate from the liquor store is perfect. Which leads me to #6
6) Nothing says Merry Xmas like hooch.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)