buy buy baby, buy buy
ALL i'm trying to do is get in my thursday evening's worth of trashy television. why does everyone have to bombard me with "gift ideas"? marshalls, sears, old navy -- STOP IT. i couldn't care less how low your sweaters are priced, or who you have sarah jessica parker nuzzling. you're a pack of wild dogs, as far as i'm concerned, and i'm this close to having you shot.
what's that you say? grinch? scrooge? tell it to scarborough county or bill oh-"i'm the only defender of christmas"-really. christmas is not going to keel over just cuz of a withering glance or two from me.
witness this illuminating exchange:
ME: hey, honey, are we giving each other hanukkah presents?
ME: okay, good. didn't think so.
HIM: hanukkah's never been a big deal to me.
ME: so you just give your family hanukkah presents cuz you have to?
HIM: no! i give my family CHRISTMAS presents. christmas is entirely different.
merry ... whatever. at least we get off work.
This Week in Short Fiction
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