Pickles & Dimes

Every year around September, my Mom starts asking Jason and I what we want for Christmas. We are to put our wishes in list form and then not tell anyone else what we want, unless it is not part of The List.

It is confusing to me, this making of the list, especially since my brain refuses to handle Christmas-related thoughts until right after I’ve devoured my third helping of Thanksgiving stuffing.

Regardless, I dutifully wrote down a variety of possible “wants,” ranging from very cheap and reasonable (a case of Mt. Dew) to slightly more expensive (X-Files DVDs – Seasons 6 through 9) to expensive (an iPod) to “never gonna happen” (my own private island).

Jason and I both turned in our lists. But what did we get in return? No lists. No reasonably good gift ideas for any of the other members of my family (with the exception of my brother, who, thank you, provided me with a very good gift idea that didn’t require me to leave the house to purchase). But everyone else is playing coy. This frustrates me, especially since when I personally called these individuals I got the same response: “Oh, I don’t know what I want.”

Look people, I hate going to the mall as it is, even when I know exactly what I need to purchase, but the thought of slaloming my way through herds of humans when I have no idea what to buy? MADNESS.

To cap it off, I’ve been told what NOT to buy for certain individuals. Had I known this was an option, I would’ve modified my list: “Yes, I won’t give you any ideas as to what I DO want, but I most definitely do NOT want a samurai sword, Paris Hilton’s CD, a bottle of Goo-Gone, or corduroy earmuffs.”