Crappy Christmas Gifts

Before getting to the main subject matter of this post, I'll begin by being a boastful bastard: all my shopping for Annual Gift Exchange Day is complete. I will not be rushing out to a crowded mall or cluster-fucked shopping center competing with lower life forms for parking spaces a week before the big day. Nay, I shall be relaxing in my warm, cozy home all day on the 24th, enjoying my pretty tree and loafing about.

Now that my enviable good planning has been properly flaunted, on to today's topic. Most of us, either through our own or, in my case, a spouse's sense of obligation, have people on our gift list whom we rarely see or talk to, sometimes intentionally, but to whom we nonetheless feel obligated to give some trinket in the spirit of Annual Gift Exchange Day. I brought no such people into my marriage. I never give gifts to the various aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbors, friends of the family, co-workers, postmen, footmen, grocers, fishmongers, shamans, bootblacks, barrel-coopers, shit-shovelers, and boil-lancers in my life. In exchange, they don't burden me with any useless shit that I don't need or want, and no one feels any pangs of guilt for not participating in the commercial spirit. Alas, due to my dear wife's deficiency of guilt immunity, we end up purchasing or recycling crappy gifts for her miscellaneous relatives and acquaintances. Equally disconcertingly, the same people bestow us with a yearly dose of crap.

The following is a list of crappy gifts I have either given, received, or seen in stores marketed as "perfect gifts:"

Scented candles. Who the fuck actually uses these? I can't think of any particular moment in my life when I yearned for my house to smell like an old woman's perfume.

Assortments of soaps, bath oils, lotions, etc. Number one, I do not take baths, I shower like any normal American. Baths are for when I have extreme muscle pain or a broken leg, and in such cases I have no desire to smell like a god-damned rose garden. Number two, most of these kinds of gifty products have given me breakouts when I've actually used them. What better gift than a fresh crop of zits that takes me back to my awkward teenage years?

Matching sets of holiday-themed paper napkins and paper plates. Thanks, I can really use this for that party I'm having last fucking week. Oh, and thanks for giving me something I can only use once.

Framed photographs. Because I want nothing more than to enshrine you in my gigantic house where I have so many bare surfaces where this would fit perfectly.

Roadside emergency kits. You know, just in case AAA and cell phones suddenly disappear off the face of the earth.

Travel alarm clock. Yeah, my cell phone's alarm clock function just mysteriously stops working as soon as I cross the state line.

Compact umbrella. Oh my god! I... I never had an umbrella before! I never thought I'd own one! Until now I've had to dash through the rain sheltering myself with a newspaper soiled with a homeless man's feces!

Portable cassette player, or even worse, portable AM/FM radio. Where do I even start? Cassette players were already aging when I was given one in 1995. Thanks, I can't wait to spend hours making mix tapes from my CD collection! Can you imagine getting one of these now? I actually saw someone listening to a portable cassette player at the gym recently, and I think she was doing it without ironic nostalgia.

A wallet. No adult in the world already has one.

Keyrings of any sort. The keyring I already have is just not working out for me.

Etiquette guide. Nothing makes you feel the joy of Christmas like being told you're an uncouth slob.

Singing/talking bottle opener. Good for a few giggles, but once the irreplaceable battery dies, you're left with a paperweight with your favorite team logo or cartoon character.

Speaking of which, Paperweights. I don't know about you, but I constantly find myself trying to keep papers from blowing away, because I do all my work on the bow of a speedboat at 50 knots.

Miniature books. The stupid tree-killers with pictures of dogs in funny hats, or a piece of sage advice on each page. These are usually good for a chuckle or a few pearls of wisdom, but what the fuck do I do with it after I've read it once, in the space of about 5 minutes? Maybe I should build a tiny bookshelf with the power tools you could have given me.

Any product labeled "As Seen On TV!" At best, it will break, disappoint, or not work at all. More likely, it will give the user a rash, electric shock, or cancer.

Cheese slicing set. This will put an end to those recurring nightmares I have where William Howard Taft won't stop teabagging me because I can't slice my cheese perfectly.

Word-a-day calendars. The perfect gift for the man with a 7th-grade reading level.

Meat & cheese assortments. If you're lucky, they'll be yummy, but an aftertaste of thoughtlessness will linger.

Christmas ornaments. I sure don't already have a tree full of ornaments, and I'll only have to wait an entire fucking year to use it.

Stocking hangers. Not only are they just plain tacky, they also have to wait a year to see any use.

Christmas-themed trivets, platters, potholders, china, and glassware. Yet again, doomed to sit in a closet for 11 months before seeing daylight.

Gift certificates to places you don't or can't go, or that won't cover the full cost of something. Specific examples come to mind: 1: my aunt used to give me gift certificates to an independent book store in Chapel Hill. I lived in Raleigh, and this was before I could drive. So I couldn't even use the thing until the next time my mom or my friend's mom felt like going to Chapel Hill. Plus they were always for 5 bucks, and Garfield books cost $6.95. 2: I once received one for an independent music store on Hillsborough Street. It was a store I rarely ever went to, and all their CDs cost a good 4–5 bucks more than at Best Buy. Thanks, I'll use this 10 bucks as a down payment on an album. 3: a $10 Applebee's gift card for me and my wife to go out to dinner. Um, thanks, I guess we'll split a plate of nachos and only one of us can get a soda.

Homemade crafts. Unless you're an artist with an understanding of craft, color, materials, and composition, just don't do it.