Best present ever. Worst present Ever.

It’s Christmas-time, which means it’s time to buy a lot of stuff no one really needs.  Unless you’re buying angry bees, which is always a good idea.  But maybe you’re stuck for ideas for awesome presents for people you love, or for horrible presents for people you resent and so I thought I’d share with you two of the best and worst presents ever.

Best present ever:  Christmas at our house is sort of weird because Victor is a bit unintentionally Grinchy, and Hailey and I are the kind of people who want to dress up in Victorian clothes and go caroling every night.  It’s a strange dynamic, so two years ago I decided to buy burp guns for all three of us, which I hid under the couches for after Christmas was winding down and we were feeling a bit blah.  Then I told Hailey and Victor to look under their seats and they each found fully-loaded guns filled with ping-pong balls.  It was like I was Oprah, but instead of giving away cars I’d taped guns under their chairs like they were imprisoned mobsters.  I was slaughtered because I have very bad aim but I was comforted by the sound of Hailey and Victor both laughing and screaming hysterically as they ran all over the house in full battle-mode, with the cats all wildly skittering after dozens of bouncing ping-pong balls.  It was insane and possibly as good as Christmas gets.

Worst present ever:  During a long stretch in high school when everything I wore was black and gothy and emo, my (estranged) grandfather gave me a pink children’s sweater from K-mart.  It was a size kid’s 6X and might have fit over my left calf if I was into one-legged, pink, leg warmers with sleeves.  Luckily, he left the top of the tag attached so I was able to take it back to K-mart, where (after waiting in line for an hour) the lady at Returns told me that the original price of the sweater was 89 cents.  I took the voucher and traded it in for kitty litter, which I had to pay an extra dollar for myself to make up the difference.  So that’s my worst present ever.  Owing a dollar for kitty litter.

PS.  This present is not why we’re estranged.  We’re estranged because of an (alleged) incident so bizarre and outlandish that no one ever believes it and I have to call my mom to confirm it.  It’s sort of a long story and probably one I can’t legally tell until everyone is dead.  Look for it in book #3:  “Everyone is Dead Now.”  It’s gonna be hilarious.

Your turn:  Best present ever.  Worst present ever.  GO.