Quote of the Day:
“I have never smuggled anything in my life. Why, then, do I feel an uneasy sense of guilt on approaching a customs barrier?” —John Steinbeck
…..TEN Gifts a’ Wrappin’.
Who’s bright idea was it to start wrapping gifts anyway? I’d like to know because if TB spots him in some lounge the next couple of days, I might have to be restrained. Phil, you know the gold buyin’ guy down the street with the giant nativity scene in his front yard; anyway, his wise men didn’t wrap their gifts so I’m pretty sure it’s un-christian for us to do it. Of course, to put yourself in their sandals, what would be the point of wrapping gifts for eight pound, six-ounce, sweet, tiny all-powerful and all-knowing baby Jesus? Hmmm, I suddenly wonder if baby Jesus needed that myrrh for baby eczema or something? Seems strange because….I digress….
I am the worst gift wrapper in all of history. I also suck at billiards and penmanship but I’m not quite the world’s worst. Second worst cowlick ever, right behind Alfalfa. But gift wrapping–it’s no contest. I’m incredibly incompetent. We’re talkin’ a whole roll of paper, half a package of tape, patches to cover the tears from mishaps around the corners and teardrop-smeared ink on the tags. Bows? Ribbons? I can’t even talk about them. On the upside, you get your money’s worth on the time required to unwrap a TB gift, probably long enough to change the ecstasy of anticipation to simple relief by the time the box shows…..
……NINE bells a’ ringin’.
…Don’t look at me like that! I pitched in a quarter at Best Buy, eight cents at Target and a buck oh four at Walmart already today. I’m out of change and you ain’t gettin’ a twenty! I’m late for an Xmas party, forgot to pick up batteries again and my gut is suddenly affecting the tide schedules so gimme a break! (go see TDW’s latest, “My Gut is So Big)
Hey, TB believes in Christian charity, or any other kind of charity as much as the next guy but enough is enough. I can’t walk in to Kroger for a dozen eggs without getting a hearty welcome; then on the way out, as I gently tread as far to the left of the giant red pot of judgment as space allows I hear the condemning, sarcastic “MERRY CHRISTmas SIR! Oh yeah? Screw you! I can hear the sneer and I know that smile isn’t genuine. The bell ringers never miss a non-giver like me and I freely confess, after about the hundredth bell-ringer of December, I’m finished.
Two suggestions….just let my own conscience and the current weight of my front pockets be the deciding factor on when I pitch in. Keep your eyes straight and your thoughts to yourself when I have to pass. And, I realize this might be a bit controversial, but, speakin’ just for myself, if I gotta see you guys at every store in town, well, I could use more cowbell…..
…….EIGHT pounds a’gainin, SEVEN Christs in Christmas, SIX Xmas Parties, FIVE. GOLD. ADS. FOUR freakin’ stitches, THREE triple AAA’s, TWO billing errors and a Lounge in a Mall ain’t no Lounge.