When Husband and I met, we delighted in playing a window shopping game named Please Never Buy Me That. We lived in a tiny tourist town in Colorado, full of gift shops with presents you’d never want to receive:
“Please never buy me that wooden bear toilet seat cozy.”
“Please never buy me that Northwoods-printed flannel Bolero jacket”
“Honey I love you so much. Please never ever buy me that beer stein shaped like a moose butt.”
Had my mom known of this game, she might’ve told me at age 7
“My sweet child, Please never buy me one solitary wine glass for my first post-divorce birthday.”
Oh, hindsight.
HOWEVER! Today I present you with my exclusive three-item Please Definitely Buy Me That Gift Guide and GIVEAWAY!
Item 1) Robin O’Bryant’s delightful book of essays “Ketchup is a Vegetable and Other Lies Moms Tell Themselves.” Do you know Robin from Robin’s Chicks? Here’s a synopsis: funny, adorable, charming, sweet, funny. Just like her book! Some of Robin’s essays will keep Grandma laughing while telling childhood horror stories about you to your kids, while others comfort your first-time-Mom sister-in-law that NO ONE wants their partner and their parent seeing their “Brittany” at the same time. Guess that means you’ll need two copies!
Item 2) Humor blogging godddess Marinka and children’s book author Peajaye’s storybook “Wanted: Cat” about one family’s journey through cat adoption. Now, if you feel suspect of my recommending a cat book–what with a cat named “The Fur Bastard” –never fear. A) That’s an alias to keep his Google-slate clean and clump-free B) Both Marinka and Peajaye are hilarious. In fact you must go directly to check out their Wanted Cat videos. C) If your kids have been begging you for a cat, maybe a book about a cat will suffice? Maybe?? Redirect. REDIRECT!
Item 3) Swath your entire family in Listen To Your Mother t-shirts. Matching is fun!
Leave a comment telling us the worst Please Never Buy Me That gift you ever received, and each of us will pick a winner and send you our respective Please Definitely Buy Me That Gift. Continental United States only please. Easiest shopping ever!
My BF, who was a notorious cheap bastard, bought me a set of cloth napkins and napkin rings “So you can make that delicious food you make and we can eat in and not go out all the time.”
Christmas ornament from my Ex…Happy Boss’s Day.
The Stevie Nick’s Greatest Hits I got when I was fourteen…because that’s exactly what a fourteen-year-old girl dreams about opening on Christmas day….say what?
A ladybug locket necklace that oh wait, was really a watch. Perfect for a woman over the age of 70 who has a thing for lady bugs.
Not so perfect for a 30 something woman who pretends she has some taste (although she wears Dansko’s everyday so the jury is still out on that one)
A “Jesus love you” ornament, for your Jewish teacher. Oy.
Dear Mom, please don’t help my children pick out a sweater for me with dancing reindeer on it. You have met me, haven’t you?
Jumper cables. I see the sweet effort, honey, but necessities do not count as gifts. For example, tampons, no.
Please never buy me a decorative stuffed rabbit wearing an old-timey dress that’s the size of a toddler when I’m eighteen. Oh, that’s right – that actually happened.
A single wine glass? Even then you were funny. 🙂
Please never ever buy me a singing telegram clown for my 16th birthday (boy-girl) party.
Ahhh… a porcelain blue ballerina lamp that is also a CLOCK.
Received as a wedding gift. Thought it was a joke. It was not. Re-gifted at ugly gift exchange and two women fought over it because they loved it. There’s obviously something wrong with me?
Steph
Every year my MIL gives me underwear. Every year. And not cute underwear, but big ol’, come all the way up to my breasts granny panties. I’m 32. Now don’t get me wrong…I love a comfy pair of undies, but really?!
I’m just glad I’m not in the “Continental United States” (wherever the f^%# that is), because if I *did* win you’d possibly send me SOMETHING I NEVER WANTED AS A PRIZE.
(well…ok, I DO want the cat book…)
An ex bought me a XXXL hooded sweatshirt with his DJ logo on the back of it. For Christmas, he made me a walking billboard for him. (He’d never booked a gig and had no merchandising, so I was his only advertising, by the way)
To make matters worse, he gave it to me 6 weeks after Christmas. Also, it was white and I’m a klutz.
He was very confused when I broke up with him a week later and argued for five years about how I should have stayed with him forever.
So, blessing in disguise, yes. Terrible gift? Also yes.
I’m laughing because I totally ASKED for one solitary wine glass for Christmas this year. I hope that isn’t a sign of a failing marriage. “I need TWO, I changed my mind…buy me TWO!”
I will read BOTH of those books while swathed in Listen To Your Mother garb this Christmas. I can think of no better way to spend Christmas morning.
No contest for me. The worst ever was a pair of slippers from my sister-in-law. They were silver and covered in sequins. But wait! That’s not all. They were also two sizes too big!!!
You know how I’m doing my holiday shopping this year, right?
Right.
Made up like fifty emails for the sole purpose of gathering gifts for my friends. All three of them.
Worst gift I have ever received: to the point that I may someday do an anonymous post. And, oh…it’s so bad:
From my MIL: on my first married Christmas. A copy, dogeared, highlighted, underlined of “A Thousand Ways To Light His Fire: Keep the passion going in your marriage.”
I feel the horror to this day.
My mother-in-law (bless her heart)gives me the worst gifts! Last year a very oversized (with plenty of room for the grandma gut which I do not gave yet as I am only 29) hot pink and zebra print minky-dot jumpsuit. Year before was one of those crinkly silk shirts that look like they fit a baby doll but surprising stretch out to a one size fits all! Can’t wait to see what this year brings…
Please never buy me a kegel exerciser. I’m not looking to tighten anything and maybe I do like to pee on myself occasionally, you never know.
Oh PLEASE buy me that ticket to LTYM. Please, please, please.
xoxoxox
Please don’t buy me a skirt that you bought at a store that was staffed by 18 year old super models and when they asked what size your wife is you said “oh about your size” as you hold up the size 0 skirt up to super model’s thin hips and toned ass, let’s call her Candy, and then buy the size 0 skirt for your 41 year old wife who has birthed THREE children, because yeah – that’s EXACTLY what I want to open on Christmas morning while I’m nursing my five month old baby. Thanks, hon.
Holy crap, Tracy…I think I may have just peed myself laughing…..
I love these gifts and would gladly be the recipient of any and all of them!
Also, do you make LTYM pajamas? Because those catalogs with the families in the matching pj’s really make me want to dress my family in matching pj’s. It’s really a pity I didn’t put that on my holiday card.
xo
Please never, ever buy me a box of weight loss paraphernalia…some kind of nasty flavor shake mix, diet books, a CD with weight loss tips. This is not a joke. How is one supposed to react to that? That’s right – by digging into a gallon of Moosetracks ice cream!
Please never buy me a humidifier for Christmas…but alas that’s what I got several years ago from my loving husband. When I gave him that WTF look, he said, and I swear this is the truth, “but you have been looking at them so much at Sam’s Club that I thought it was a hint of what you wanted for Christmas.” Yeah, he missed the big diamond earrings hint when in the jewelry store I said “I’d love those earrings for Christmas honey.” I didn’t marry him because of his ability to take a hint! And to this day, both of our families give him grief for the humidifier Christmas!!!
Alright even though I can’t win anything, I would have to say that the worst gift was one of those plastic boxes that had a clear plastic flower inside it that lit up in flashing colors.
I can’t believe you hated on that Bolero jacket. (And are we capitalizing that now?)
XO
A.
Please, honey, never buy me a peppermint candy pink button down oxford shirt when I’ve said “I hate pink” approximately 7,943 times since I’ve known you, complete with self-inducing vomit finger down throat.