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If you don't like it, I dare you to take it back.
I was sitting on my couch watching my stories the other day when I saw a commercial advertising "Christmas In July!" This led to a domino effect of sorts with me thinking what Christmas would be like if it was actually in July (sweaters and speedos? eggnog and lemonade? surely, you jest!) Then I started thinking about gifts and gift-giving: a timeless art that is not only one of the stranger forms of human interrelationships ("Hey, Jesus was born two-thousand-something years ago today–here's a blender"), but also a real pain in the ass on both ends (what, does that make sense? Pain in the ass on both... nevermind). It's hard as hell to find the perfect gift for somebody, especially if it's a female, and rarely do you ever really get what you need or want. This is why I don't buy gifts for anyone. Not only do I not feel the need to show my affection for somebody via giving him/her a George Foreman Grill, but I'm sick of society telling me I HAVE to buy gifts on certain days for people. Blow me, society. Grandma's getting a twenty-dollar bill just like I've been getting for the last twenty-five years. Fresh from the wallet, and I didn't have to sit in traffic or stand in line to get it. I made it. Selling pot. To a kid who'll get high and buy his grandma a half-eaten bag of Hershey Kisses and a card that says Happy Birthday with a picture of a muscle-bound dude in a Speedo. The circle of life.
But even though I refuse to buy gifts anymore, I still get them because so many people love me. They're mostly retarded, but I'll take what I can get. And even though they love me, they sure have funny ways of showing it via gift-giving. The following are far and away the worst gifts I have ever received, in no particular order, and not coordinated by holiday because I don't respect you enough to do so and I like to mess with those of you with ADD. So, without further ado:
Puma Soccer Spikes: I've never played organized soccer. I played football in grade school. All my friends had Nike Sharks, so I wanted Nike Sharks. I got Puma Soccer Spikes. My parents described them as "all-purpose" which meant I could get my ass kicked during Little League season, too. Plus, instead of just being black and white like the Sharks were, my parents thought it would be cool if the spikes were in my team's colors–black and gold. Have you ever had an adult call you a fag when you were under the age of twelve. I have. I called said adult "coach."
Peeps: all of you Christians out there, half-assed like myself or Conservative ass-clown, have eaten one of these unholy things and knows their wrath. For those of you who are hellbound, let me explain what a Peep is. First, ejaculate in a cup. Let the sample sit until solid. Roll the solid mass into a ball, then shape it like a baby chick or bunny as best you can. Then go to your sugar bowl and pee in it. When the urine dries, take the yellow sugar and cover the jizz bird/bunny in it. Then put it in a kid's Easter basket. If you want to eat one, I suggest doing what I do every Easter and get very drunk (hey, I'm mourning the loss of Christ, don't judge me). Then eat like fifteen. Then go into a diabetic coma. They also come in pink, blue, and purple, if you would be so bold, but I don't know what you can eat or drink to make your pee turn those colors. Perhaps some Peeps.
Food Poisoning: my brother took me out for dinner once for my birthday. A few hours after the meal my lower intestine completely fell out of my ass and I made Ewen McGregor's heroin-kicking bed seen in Trainspotting look like a Disney flick for about three days. My vomit burned off my nose hair and I no longer manufacture boogers. And I got stigmata. Fucking stigmata, goddammit Now, did my brother place the hell-raising microbes in my internal organs? No. But his gift certainly did. Don't worry, though. My brother has since unknowingly eaten several meals containing my pubes.
Pager: I got this in 2001 after asking for a cell phone. My parents did not yet understand the concept of cell phones and thought they were only for Wall Street types and not teens. So I became the weirdo in my group of friends with the pager and got to repeatedly say, "Hey, can I borrow your cell phone. I just got paged." The best was when I got paged by my parents. Nothing makes you feel cooler than that.
A Book on How to Do Magic Tricks: a subtle theme to this list is that my friends and family seem to want me to get the shit beaten out of me on a constant basis. Nothing says "loser" more than a guy who does magic tricks. Oooh, you know sleight of hand? Fucking awesome Can I get off your lap now, Uncle Charlie? We had a food drive at my high school and I donated that book.
Tickets to a Minor League Baseball Game: I don't think any gift has angered me more. I live in a city with two–fucking two--MLB teams, and somebody has the fucking gall to give me minor league baseball tickets. I didn't even know where this minor league team played nor who the fuck played for them. Would I root for this team or against it? Are they Single-A, Double-AA, Independent? And the asshole who gave me the tickets did so with the expectation that I'd bring him. Of course I didn't. I went by myself and scalped the extra ticket for the $8.00 face value, and got shitfaced on dollar beers. Then I yelled at the guys in the nearby bullpen (who were on the home team) for ruining my birthday until I was asked to leave.
A Valentine in Second Grade: I had a crush on this girl in my class and got really excited on Valentine's Day as I awaited her proclamation of her undying love for me. I gave her a card with something terrible written on it (see, kids, I wasn't always this good of a wordsmith) and some candy, and she smiled and gave me mine. The card had some nuts and bolts on the front and the inside said "On this Valentine's Day, let's screw." I was seven, and the innuendo was completely lost on me, so I was nothing more than confused. Then I saw her give the same card to three other guys. It snowed that winter and we kept our boots in the back of the class. I found hers and took a dump in one of them. Now, I know what you're thinking–"How the hell did a seven year old give a card like that?" Well, believe it or not there are some parents out there who aren't exactly what you would call "responsible." Turns out that lazy mommy gave her daughter some cash and let her go to the store and pick out her own cards without screening them. After phone calls from my teacher and several parents, mommy pulled her daughter out of my school. Ironically, I'd give my left nut for a chick to give me that card today.
A Three-legged Dog: my hippie cousin shows up at my high school graduation party with a mutt with three damned legs. Three damned legs people After giving the dog to me and noticing everyone looking at her with a mix of "Are you retarded?" and "Are you fucking retarded?"she defended herself saying she saw the poor thing in an alley and couldn't bear to let it be alone and starving. My dad replied, "You gave my kid a three-legged dog you found in an alley?" I named the thing Connie after my cousin, even though it was a male. The thing was also blind in one eye to boot. It lasted about three weeks at my house before mysteriously drowning in our pool even though it couldn't climb the ladder to get in.
A subscription to Sports Illustrated for Kids: when I was sixteen.
A VHS Copy of 3,000 Miles to Graceland: I think the relative who bought me this did so because he said he saw it and enjoyed it and I half-sarcastically gave him one of those "Oh, yeah, that wasn't too bad" humoring agreements, and he surmised that I should then own this piece of cinema. Needless to say it was never removed from its case. I wouldn't even use it to even out my three-legged couch (that the three-legged dog shat on several times, ironically) for fear of someone seeing that I owned it.
I'm sure there's more that my memory has suppressed. But hey, enough about my foibles for now. I want to hear from you, the sweaty masses. What's the worst gift you've ever gotten and/or given, and should you be ritually executed for the latter? Have a Hap-hap-happy Christmas in July!!!
Posts: 1542 Rank: 6 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
New York, NY
Posted: 7/26/2007 10:17:12 AM
I believe they're New Balance. Anyway, this was pretty good, Baffoe. I like the image of you drunkenly screaming that a mior league relief pitcher ruined your birthday partly becasue in my mind you look like the Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer.
A buddy of mine was given the movies "Pearl Harbor" and "The Faculty" on VHS by his stepmom for his birthday. He's never opened either of them, but he won't throw them away either. They just sit there on his shelf taunting him reminding him of how much he hates his stepmom.
Posts: 2047 Rank: 5 Joined:
2/27/2007
Location:
Ventura, CA
Posted: 7/26/2007 10:38:05 AM
Wow, you actually wrote something funny. Did you take a class this month at the community college on Wabash? You get a gold star.
Gift - I got a Magic 8-Ball for Christmas when I was 20 years old. Like I couldn't already figure out what my future was going to be like at 20, living in my parents basement, stealing my dad's pot because I was broke and had no job. A fucking Magic 8-Ball. Nice. Makes me glad that I bought their presents with the money I stole from my mom's purse the week before.
Posts: 260 Rank: 26 Joined:
5/31/2007
Location:
Gilbert, AZ
Posted: 7/26/2007 10:42:52 AM
Solid work.
My grandparents, who lived in Brownsville, TX once gave me a box of chicklets for Christmas. Must have dropped $.50 on that gift to some 6 year old Mexican girl. Additionally, they wrapped it in an empty Corn Flakes box and stuffed old newspaper in it so that the chicklets wouldn't jiggle around. It also came with the trade mark aroma of generic menthol cigarette smoke.
Posts: 1123 Rank: 9 Joined:
3/13/2007
Location:
My Cubicle, CO
Posted: 7/26/2007 10:50:10 AM
A leather kit for making your own designs on patches of leather and *GASP* even a belt. Thanks Gramma, dont worry I'm sure I can just play that video game I have been dropping hints about for serveral months at one of my friends house.
Posts: 2831 Rank: 2 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
Philadelphia, PA
Posted: 7/26/2007 10:58:48 AM
Not only did this not suck, it was pretty fucking funny. Especially the VHS thing. It amazes me that people do this. I'm with you. I give cash/gift cards to everyone or ask them specifically what they want.
My friend Jack just had to get his dog's leg removed. and now its dick is so noticeable. it just flops and bounces. I can't stop looking at it. and I think the dog knows I'm looking at it too.
Worst gift: A velvet poster of a unicorn that you can color yourself with black light markers. This gift would have been cool in 1995 when I was on acid all the time. But it was given to me by my (favorite) brother last christmas. To make matters worse, he bought me the exact same gift the year before and colored it in himself one night when he was drunk. I don't even have a black light.
Posts: 452 Rank: 28 Joined:
4/23/2007
Location:
Jackson, MI
Posted: 7/26/2007 11:05:02 AM
"the shockers" two little metal magnet cylindrical thingies that you toss in the air and they make an electrical clank when they attract each other and crash in the air. It's entertaining for about a fucking second, unless you are my little nephew, who took them from me and clanked those fucking things for four hours straight. I wanted to shove those things down his little fucking throat! But I did not because it would have hurt his mother's feelings. Not that I would kill the kid, but that I would loose the gift she gave me.
Posts: 1375 Rank: 10 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
savannah, GA
Posted: 7/26/2007 11:10:32 AM
it was so easy to hate you! "i thought you were a dumb brute. i could have forgiven a dumb brute..." this was phenomenal baffoe. at least after reading this, i can continue in the line of thought that i am a far superior human being than you. the worst gift i ever got was the game 'top gun' for the nes.
Posts: 2047 Rank: 5 Joined:
2/27/2007
Location:
Ventura, CA
Posted: 7/26/2007 11:13:10 AM
You are one of the funniest chicks I have ever known. That shit about the dog's dick has got tears running down my face. I don't care who sees me right now. That's shit is funny.
gave me "Made" on dvd. I watched it for about 25 minutes and discovered that although Famke Janssen is wicked hot (but now ruined because she played a tranny on Nip/Tuck), Vince Vaughn's ultimate irritating-ness cancels her out. This terrible attempt to capitalize on Swingers is a total cinematic abortion.
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Puma Soccer Spikes: I've never played organized soccer. I played football in grade school. All my friends had Nike Sharks, so I wanted Nike Sharks. I got Puma Soccer Spikes. My parents described them as "all-purpose" which meant I could get my ass kicked during Little League season, too. Plus, instead of just being black and white like the Sharks were, my parents thought it would be cool if the spikes were in my team's colors–black and gold. Have you ever had an adult call you a fag when you were under the age of twelve. I have. I called said adult "coach."
Peeps: all of you Christians out there, half-assed like myself or Conservative ass-clown, have eaten one of these unholy things and knows their wrath. For those of you who are hellbound, let me explain what a Peep is. First, ejaculate in a cup. Let the sample sit until solid. Roll the solid mass into a ball, then shape it like a baby chick or bunny as best you can. Then go to your sugar bowl and pee in it. When the urine dries, take the yellow sugar and cover the jizz bird/bunny in it. Then put it in a kid's Easter basket. If you want to eat one, I suggest doing what I do every Easter and get very drunk (hey, I'm mourning the loss of Christ, don't judge me). Then eat like fifteen. Then go into a diabetic coma. They also come in pink, blue, and purple, if you would be so bold, but I don't know what you can eat or drink to make your pee turn those colors. Perhaps some Peeps. 
Food Poisoning: my brother took me out for dinner once for my birthday. A few hours after the meal my lower intestine completely fell out of my ass and I made Ewen McGregor's heroin-kicking bed seen in Trainspotting look like a Disney flick for about three days. My vomit burned off my nose hair and I no longer manufacture boogers. And I got stigmata. Fucking stigmata, goddammit Now, did my brother place the hell-raising microbes in my internal organs? No. But his gift certainly did. Don't worry, though. My brother has since unknowingly eaten several meals containing my pubes.
Pager: I got this in 2001 after asking for a cell phone. My parents did not yet understand the concept of cell phones and thought they were only for Wall Street types and not teens. So I became the weirdo in my group of friends with the pager and got to repeatedly say, "Hey, can I borrow your cell phone. I just got paged." The best was when I got paged by my parents. Nothing makes you feel cooler than that.
A Book on How to Do Magic Tricks: a subtle theme to this list is that my friends and family seem to want me to get the shit beaten out of me on a constant basis. Nothing says "loser" more than a guy who does magic tricks. Oooh, you know sleight of hand? Fucking awesome Can I get off your lap now, Uncle Charlie? We had a food drive at my high school and I donated that book. 
Tickets to a Minor League Baseball Game: I don't think any gift has angered me more. I live in a city with two–fucking two--MLB teams, and somebody has the fucking gall to give me minor league baseball tickets. I didn't even know where this minor league team played nor who the fuck played for them. Would I root for this team or against it? Are they Single-A, Double-AA, Independent? And the asshole who gave me the tickets did so with the expectation that I'd bring him. Of course I didn't. I went by myself and scalped the extra ticket for the $8.00 face value, and got shitfaced on dollar beers. Then I yelled at the guys in the nearby bullpen (who were on the home team) for ruining my birthday until I was asked to leave.
A Valentine in Second Grade: I had a crush on this girl in my class and got really excited on Valentine's Day as I awaited her proclamation of her undying love for me. I gave her a card with something terrible written on it (see, kids, I wasn't always this good of a wordsmith) and some candy, and she smiled and gave me mine. The card had some nuts and bolts on the front and the inside said "On this Valentine's Day, let's screw." I was seven, and the innuendo was completely lost on me, so I was nothing more than confused. Then I saw her give the same card to three other guys. It snowed that winter and we kept our boots in the back of the class. I found hers and took a dump in one of them. Now, I know what you're thinking–"How the hell did a seven year old give a card like that?" Well, believe it or not there are some parents out there who aren't exactly what you would call "responsible." Turns out that lazy mommy gave her daughter some cash and let her go to the store and pick out her own cards without screening them. After phone calls from my teacher and several parents, mommy pulled her daughter out of my school. Ironically, I'd give my left nut for a chick to give me that card today. 
A Three-legged Dog: my hippie cousin shows up at my high school graduation party with a mutt with three damned legs. Three damned legs people After giving the dog to me and noticing everyone looking at her with a mix of "Are you retarded?" and "Are you fucking retarded?"she defended herself saying she saw the poor thing in an alley and couldn't bear to let it be alone and starving. My dad replied, "You gave my kid a three-legged dog you found in an alley?" I named the thing Connie after my cousin, even though it was a male. The thing was also blind in one eye to boot. It lasted about three weeks at my house before mysteriously drowning in our pool even though it couldn't climb the ladder to get in. 
A subscription to Sports Illustrated for Kids: when I was sixteen. 
A VHS Copy of 3,000 Miles to Graceland: I think the relative who bought me this did so because he said he saw it and enjoyed it and I half-sarcastically gave him one of those "Oh, yeah, that wasn't too bad" humoring agreements, and he surmised that I should then own this piece of cinema. Needless to say it was never removed from its case. I wouldn't even use it to even out my three-legged couch (that the three-legged dog shat on several times, ironically) for fear of someone seeing that I owned it.
