Humor Blog Highlights

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas…

(You Know, Returning Gifts and Seeing People You Don't Want to...)

Christmas is just around the corner. Actually, it’s about three blocks up and to the left. I say this because Christmas ads start well into October, making you believe it’s coming soon. But in actuality, it won’t be here for another couple months.

What happens is, your tolerance builds to a point where you can stand anything. That anything usually takes the shape of ‘The Day After Christmas.’

The day after Christmas is a prime example of tolerance. The people, mainly family and friends, have known you for so long, they believe that they have this idea of your likes and dislikes when it comes to Christmas gifts. Never mind that some of these people haven’t seen or spoken to you for years. This is why there is such a day reserved solely for returning gifts.

Companies understand this. This is their way of consoling you after you have been through the worst day of your life, December 25th.

Opening gifts can be summed up to getting your tarot card reading and picking the death card. It’s hard to hide your feelings, but you manage and tell yourself, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

Christmas has made me the king of fake enthusiasm. I have spent many hours preparing for this day that comes once a year. In the end, I think all the hours spent doing push ups and sparring has really helped me.

But you sit there, in front of every person that you know, staring at this box that is so neatly wrapped.

Thank God.

This wrapping allows you some time to fulfill your yoga breathing exercises, as you carefully tear off the paper, kindly grinning and explaining that you always keep the wrapping.

All eyes are on you as you open the box, praying for something that you might be able to use. And then it happens. The next few moments are like watching Lindsey Wagner, as the Bionic Woman, save someone’s life.

Time, literally creeps be. You get that final piece of paper off and in your face is a Chia Pet.

“Wow, for me, thank you. No, I don’t have one of these. Yeah, I’ll take the receipt, just in case I get the same gift from someone else.”

Chia pets have sales that extend past the millions. But does anyone know anybody that owns one? I know one person that does, but I can’t imagine he has over 600,000 of them stashed away in the garage.

I wonder if the people at Chia Pet have ever wondered why all the warranty registration cards are coming from the same address. The commercial doesn’t say, ‘This product is endorsed by Frank.’

I believe my tolerance building began at an early age. The gifts used to be okay. I remember getting these Hot Wheel tracks for Christmas. They were blue with a red stripe down the middle, made out of pure plastic. I thought it was the best gift. That was until I got out of line.

My father would smack me with these tracks. He hit me so many times that I had the Hot Wheels logo branded on my ass. My friends thought I was the spokesperson for the company.

They would always ask if they could join.

I would simply reply, “Come by my house after 6 p.m. and make sure you eat plenty of sugar before you come.” Pixie sticks were what I would suggest, the king size. The ones that were in the plastic tube that you had to open with heavy machinery, in which you needed to have a CDL to operate.

Needless to say, I learned from this Hot Wheels track experience. My Christmas list changed dramatically after the affair. The next year my parents would be going over my list, thinking, “Magic Merlin’s mystical dust, fluff pillows, confetti, can of air? Whose child is this?”

Sadly, my two brothers didn’t learn anything. Their lists consisted of, ‘Pet rocks, Tonka trucks, and baseball bats.’

Till this day, I still feel bad for my younger brother, who is now deaf, dumb, and mute. It’s also a damn shame what happened to my dog. Stupid giant, rubber bone.

Merry Christmas!

About Jason Tanamor (44 Posts from 2001 - 2003)
The writings of Jason Tanamor display obvious influence from many very different stylings, all the way from the wackiness and off-the-wall concepts of Dave Barry to the detailed analysis of a young and hip Jerry Seinfeld.