2008-03-23

You may have won the battle, PK, but you haven't won the WAR.

I once had an argument of sorts with my friend Andy about gift-giving -- specifically the act of setting up an Amazon Wish List, as well as the act of purchasing something from someone's Amazon Wish List. Andy is somewhat older than I am and rather set in his ways, and his thinking is that a gift should be something carefully thought out by the giver, and the recipient really shouldn't DEMAND specific gifts. Pointing and clicking on an item and adding it to one's virtual shopping cart depersonalizes the act. It becomes less of an art and more of an obligation.

I see Andy's point. I do, even though I myself happen to have an Amazon Wish List. I have found that many people expect this of me, and -- further -- request that I update my list to reflect my current wants and needs. The hassle of wondering what I'm "into" is eradicated, I get the "Valley of the Dolls" deeeeeeluxe DVD set, and everyone's happy. I feel VERY conflicted about this, I really do.

Over the years, though, I have been the recipient of some truly...interesting...gifts. Luridly hued-and-patterned articles of clothing selected by well-intentioned relatives because, well, I'm "just so kooky," and the item "just SCREAMED" my name. Naturally, I know that one must needs always be gracious, and grateful. But I will tell you that there are really only a handful of people in my life that have a bona fide talent for selecting gifts that I didn't ask for, but somehow manage to be PERFECT.

My brother is one of them. For my 30th birthday he got me The Dr. Laura Game, which proved so utterly fascinating-yet-horrifying that I never even removed the shrink wrap. Lo these many years later, I still haven't. Completely fucked up and totally inappropriate. Perfect.

And then, of course, there's PK. My sparring partner. My vulgar Muse. For the past few years, we've been engaging in what I call The Tee Shirt War. It all started innocently enough, when I had this shipped to her out there in Los Anguhleeze:

PK and I are perpetually 11 years old. As such, we find this sort of thing absolutely hilarious. We love Mr. Happy Crack. Concrete repair was never so endearing.

It didn't stop there. PK returned the favor by sending me a shirt emblazoned with the words "SISTER FISTER" in huge silvery letters. There is absolutely NO PLACE ON THIS EARTH that I can wear this, and that very fact brought me to tears, so moved was I by its stupefying inappropriateness.

And yesterday a package appeared in my mailbox. A little Easter gift. Inside was a girly-tee with this across the chest area:

I ask you -- how am I supposed to top this? How?

It's ON, bitch. It is ON.

lisamcc at 8:03 p.m.

previous | next