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2:08 pm | 26 December 2003 | holiday potpourri

Christmas makes me crazy with an especial gusto usually reserved only for drunken food-eating or mentrual shopping, as so: I will do anything to get the right goddamned gift.

If this is a surprise to you, then you're retarded, because it just stands too much to reason that a type-A personality such as mine, with overachievement issues, indifference towards authority, no real grasp of reasonable spending limits, and obsessive tendencies would go batshit nutso in my quest for presents. Remember, i got eight people to buy for, and that's just my sometimes-too-immediate family.

So when Gangly, my other brother, expressed an ardent highschool desire for something called Nike Baller Id Bands, who spent two hours on the internet trying to find them, after having first called all local Nike dealers to make absolutely sure they were sold out? Huh? WHO?! Oh, yes, me. And i paid out the butt for them. And they will not arrive until Dec. 29 because $7 shipping on a ten-ounce parcel was bad enough, so there was just no way i was gonna drop $20 on UPS two-day air. BUT I FOUND THEM! Oh my wallet.

It is not Christmas' fault alone. At any/every present-giving occasion, i find myself possessed with the spirit of MC Hammer at a Benz dealership during his first flush of success, throwing fiduciary caution to the commercial winds. I have practically severed the fingers of my left hands THRICE on this trip from whipping out my Visa so fast. Oh god. Oh god.

favourite holidaytime quotes:

My mother (coldly/blankly watching "Play That Funky Music White Boy," a mint, unopened Vanilla Ice video collection i bought Tape for Christmas): Look at his bling. He's got a CD around his neck.
Tape (nonchalantly): They had less money back then.

My stepmother (feeding spicy cheese dip to one of their two corpulent golden retrievers, for whom she has a jokey disdain): Here, Raina. I hope this burns your guts out.

Me (en route to art party): Hey, let's take Mom's Captain Morgan's.
Tape: I've got a flask.
Me: We don't need it. Mom buys the plastic drunkproof containers.
Tape: Oh yeah.
Approximately a half-hour later, at party:
Me: Oh, shit, i didn't bring any mixers. But they sell Coke here.
Tape: Sweet. Cause i took five bucks out of Mom's purse.
Bliss: It is so obvious you two are sisters.

Nightmonkey (announcing, just like every year): I will now take my new video games and isolate myself in the basement. Merry Christmas.

Happy Hols to you, too, you little boogers. I love youse. clm.

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