It’s the Thought That Counts. No, Really.

FeatureIf you’re old like me, then chances are you spent the majority of your youth watching crappy TV shows with equally crappy Christmas episodes touted as “special.”

Christmas Grumpy CatYou no doubt were watching the year that Alf helped deliver a baby, Mama tried to decide whether or not to cook that goose for Christmas dinner on Mama’s Family, and when Ricky decked out some homeless dude’s cave on Silver Spoons. You probably even wondered, like the rest of America, what the hell Grandma was talking about to Garfield when she described “wood-burning cats” (being a literal-minded child with a warped imagination, I pictured a Salem witch trial scenario made entirely of cats).

… maybe you’re not as old as me. Maybe you can suck it.

Then again, maybe you’re not as old as me. Maybe you can suck it.

Anyway, nothing puts me in the spirit of Christmas like Christmas television. By spirit of Christmas, I mean stressing myself to an ulcer trying to purchase countless gifts that people will like but don’t need, with money that I have but would rather spend on myself or my cats, whom I can deal with as being ungrateful a-holes.

I know, I know. It’s the thought that counts when it comes to gift giving. Well, this year, I aim to test that theory.

I know what you’re thinking. “Oh, wise Ruby42, how does one test to see if the thoughts behind a gift mean more than actual swag?”

Well, how about instead of giving your sister-in-law a $40 sweater, you give her a photo of a $40 sweater and say, “I thought of you when I saw this, and I think you’d look pretty in it, and since we both know you start sweating like a whore in church when you have to get off the couch to get more ice for your Dr. Pepper, I know you can’t actually wear knit clothing. It’s the thought that counts.”

Everyone seems to have that one person in the family whom you loath shopping for, right? That one person who never seems to like anything you buy, who always asks for receipts, or who just opens your gift and gives a little sour look like you pissed in her chardonnay?

Well, screw driving yourself crazy trying to please Tard the Grumpy Cat this year. Give her a receipt for something you bought for yourself. Write a note on the back that says, “It’s better to give than receive. I gave this Doctor Who scarf to me so you could receive the pleasure of seeing me wear it. Merry Christmas to both of us.” Problem. SOLVED.

Have a promiscuous cousin to shop for? Nothing says, “Here’s something to tide you over until the next batch of horny migrant workers are dropped off outside of Home Depot for you to molest” like a basket of Taco Bell packets. Besides, with a little more Mexican in her mouth than between her legs, she won’t need to bum as many rides to the WIC office from you, and you’ll both save money on gas.

… with a little more Mexican in her mouth than between her legs, she won’t need to bum as many rides to the WIC office from you …

Narcissistic friend? Hack her Facebook account and delete all her duck-face photos. How much nicer can you be, really? I mean, she obviously is clueless regarding how stupid she looks. Therefore, this is an educational gift, as well. You’ve just educated her about how stupid she looked, and now she knows and likely won’t do it again or will delete you. Either way, you’ve either done yourself or all of society a humongous favor.

Think all of these sound like entirely too much effort to put into people you don’t like anyway? Then just do what I plan to do and spend all your money on lambic beers, cheap Champagne, and prepacked sushi and just give them all the finger. It really is the gift that keeps on giving.RedShtick-Top-ColumnStop

About Ruby42

Ruby42 is an artist / poet / comedian / writer / pornographer / baker of boozy bacon cakes and thinks it sucks to be you.

Check Also

Theatre Baton Rouge Slays Audience With “She Kills Monsters”

Knick Moore reviews Theatre Baton Rouge's production of the story of Agnes Evans trying to connect with her recently deceased sister Tilly via a custom D&D module she left behind.