secret santa is some tough stuff. i went shopping for mine yesterday and i got all panty-twisted about it. not even regular panty-twisted, like giant diaper-bundled. and trust me, i know that giant diaper bundle is purely theoretical panty physics at this point in undie science.
anyway, no present seemed right, adequate or even slightly acceptable.
maybe it’s because no one ever knows their secret santa pairing that well. it’s just one of the basic facts of life similar to the fact that lightning shocks people.
anyway, i thought about not trying at all, but then i remembered getting bad presents from the ghost of secret santas past. the feeling was akin to the image of a sack of wet dirt being thrown by the handful at an earnest hopeful heart until it falls to the ground, beating yet beaten.
anyway, my friend who accompanied me yesterday can vouch for my lack of shopping prowess. we had to take a breather and sit down and massage our callouses and say affirmations (i.e., “i have good credit”, “i can pick out books”, “i can point out a knick-knack”, etc.) for a good ten minutes before anything made sense again. the mall at this time of year can really mess you up.
den of sin
courtesy of Flickr
in more well-balanced news, my office secret santa got me a plant-uh. too bad it’s not gonna last. its so innocent and happy. little does it know that i can’t even hydrate and sun myself let alone someone else.
also, i lost a battle with a block of cornbread today. the scars are palpable.