Save Your Money

Now that Christmas is officially less than two weeks away, one of my favorite questions to ask my kids' friends is "What are you hoping to get for Christmas?" With almost frightening accuracy, I can almost always predict which kids will say "I don't really know, because there's nothing I really need" and which ones, without hesitation, say "Money, another Xbox, cash, a new cell phone, a car, a ski trip in Colorado with my friends, gift cards, maybe some more money, and did I mention money?"

This year, my kids haven't asked for much. A video game here, a board game there, maybe a few pieces of plastic weaponry, but fortunately nothing that will force us to eat ramen for the next few months. That gift list belongs to me (new refrigerator anyone?), which is why when anyone asks me what I want for Christmas, my response is always "Nothing. Really, nothing. Unless you're prepared to spend $20,000." to which they respond "Okay, then. No problem. Nothing it is." But then there's always those people that insist on getting you something because after all, 'tis the season for giving crappy gifts (like the ones on this list).

One thing about the Sunday paper this time of year is that it weighs about 12 pounds, 11.5 of which is ads for doorbuster sales. Buried in these ads, and in the barrage of catalogs that have been arriving in my mailbox since September, are some products that truly leave me wondering -- who in the hell would ever buy any of this stuff for someone and expect to hear "Kick ass! I always wanted me one of these! You knew exactly what I needed!"

This craptastic bedding set is appropriately called "Mossy Oak," and can be yours for the low price of $120. Maybe it would be good for parents to have, though, because when the kids wander in at midnight, they won't be able to find mom or dad.

I think this is a back massager, but considering the shape and varying lengths of the "massage tips," something tells me it could probably be used for other things as well.

No, it's not an alien or even a Rocky Mountain bighorn ram with unusually large horns. It's a uterus pillow. Just what every girl wants, and what every guy wants to see propped up on the couch.

If you wear this thing for just ten minutes a day, you will notice a 72% reduction in sagging, a 42% reduction in wrinkles, a noticeable improvement in skin tone and color, and a 100% reduction in the number of friends you have. Because now they all think you're insane.

When I bring my daughter to the pool, I like for her to be able to swim, kick, jump and stand in the pool, not to mention be able to walk (not run) on the pool deck. Notice, "wave legs around like a moron mermaid" and "fall flat on face because her feet are stuck together" are not on this list.

The funny thing is, I know someone that would think this is a pretty cool gift. I, however, don't need one because I see something frighteningly similar every day. It's called a "neighbor."

These "instant flattery" pinstripe slacks may very well make the legs look long and lean, but they also make the ass look all squishy and fat, especially when one bends over.

I know there are families out there that buy new pajamas every Christmas, and some of these families go so far as to buy matching pj's. But come on, matching pajamas for the dog? That's going too far.

And just so you know, if I were to ever buy green striped pajamas for my husband, I would never see him wearing them on Christmas morning. Because dead people can't see.

Too. Many. Jokes. Can't. Think. Clearly.

hahahahahahahahahaha! Seriously? Anyone who has been married for more than two minutes knows that when the husband is out of town, the wife is all HOLY SHIT THIS IS AWESOME! I HAVE THE WHOLE BED TO MYSELF WITHOUT ANYONE ELSE'S BODY PARTS TAKING UP SPACE!

Honestly, how creepy would it be to sleep with a fucking arm? Who knows, though. Maybe you can insert four "D" batteries and the hand does a gentle squeezing motion. That would explain why she put the hand on her boob.

Really, You Shouldn't Have

Since Doug already told me about a couple things I could get him for Christmas, I figured he must already be brainstorming about what to buy me. And since I don't change very much much - except a few additional gray hairs, a couple extra ounces here and there and maybe a liberal sprinkling of insanity - this list remains pretty much the same from year to year. Oh wait, one thing has changed: in addition to vodka, I would happily accept beer, rum or Jameson.

(Originally posted on 12/14/09.)

A few nights ago, Doug asked me what I wanted for Christmas. While I found it almost impossible to think of things that I would love to find under the tree, the number of things that I knew I didn't want was a little overwhelming. I don't really consider myself difficult to buy for, but I definitely don't like things that are crappily constructed, emit smells, burn through batteries, or considered "collectible." Since this pretty much covers everything sold at a Hallmark store, here are a few other items that upon receiving, would require 100% fake enthusiasm, and might even trigger a little bit of anger directed toward the giver:

1. Jewelry in any shape other than a solitaire. This includes angels, birds, crosses, snowflakes, candy canes, flowers, snowmen, hearts, elephants, or "a key to my heart."
2. Seasonal dishes or serving pieces that take up coveted storage space for 11 months out of the year, only to be forgotten about and never used for the one month that they would be relevant.
3. A personal massager, unless the massager has human hands and shows up at my front door for two hours every Monday with a bottle of hot oil.
4. A "Birthstone Babies" necklace, bracelet, or keychain.
5. A membership to a "_____ Of The Month" club, unless the blank can be filled-in with either "Booze" or "Illegal Drug."
6. TV trays, because I never sit down to eat.
7. Any device that would be used for the removal of carpet stains.
8. An Ab Rocket abdominal trainer, unless you want to get punched in the face.
9. A Roomba
10. Luggage, unless it comes with round-trip tickets to Jamaica.
11. Scented lotion gift sets, because even though I may like gingerbread, it doesn't mean I want to smell like it.
12. Potpourri, in all of its hideous forms.
13. Scrapbooking supplies, or a gift card to Archivers.
14. Pajamas that don't keep me warm.
15. The $25 gift card to a restaurant that came free with the purchase of a $100 gift card, which I know the giver kept for themselves.
16. Anything written by Koontz, Baldacci, Palin, or Beck.
17. Items from "As Seen on TV," including Shamwow, Bump-It, Flingshot Flying Monkey, Point 'n Paint, Hanger Cascader, Forearm Forklift, or the super stylish Buxton Cellphone Wallet.
18. Any season of "Desperate Housewives" on DVD, because contrary to popular belief, all of us gals do not watch this show.
19. Small kitchen appliances, because I already have a toaster, coffee maker, and popcorn popper, and even though they're popular, I don't need a panini press.
20. The book "Screamfree Parenting: The Revolutionary Approach to Raising Your Kids by Keeping Your Cool," because the author of this book has obviously never spent any time with actual kids.

I realize that this doesn't leave much to choose from, and some of the things that I already asked Santa for might be hard to find at Target. So if nothing else, I guess I'd be happy with a healthy family, kids that get along, and a dog that doesn't smell. And if I still can't have these things, then just get me vodka.

The Coveted Notebook

Now that Zoe is six, Monday night piano lessons have been added to her schedule. Surprisingly enough, she was really nervous for her first lesson because, as she put it, "I can't play those long songs with all those notes all crazy and stuff like the brothers can." I wanted to tell her that it's really okay because that one song that Zach is playing right now? Well, let me just tell you that I really, truly, honestly despise that song, but since I have to be a supportive parent all I can say every time I hear it is "that sounds nice, dear." But as soon as he is done with this piece of music that sounds like nothing but cacophony, that sheet music will be known as kindling before either of my other kids has a chance to play even one measure of it.

Since she was nervous, I made sure that she was completely prepared for her first lesson. Cute bag (aka repurposed dance bag), new piano books (aka new workbook, two-times-hand-me-down lesson book) and a new box of crayons for the workbook -- check, check and check. And after seeing that the piano lessons required new things and finding out that they would cost money, her excitement level ratcheted up a few notches.

At the end of the first lesson, everything seemed to have went smoothly, her nerves had disappeared and she was genuinely excited for the following week. That's when her teacher said "Zoe, where is your lesson notebook so that I can write down what you need to practice?" DAMMIT! A notebook! The boys have been hauling a lesson notebook for the last nine years, HOW COULD I FORGET THE NOTEBOOK?

As soon as we got home, I immediately started searching for a suitable notebook. Since I love browsing through office supply stores, small notebooks and pens tend to accumulate in my house so I knew I would find at least one. And that's when I spied it: medium size, covered in multicolored daisies, with a translucent plastic laminate cover. I hated to part with it, but I knew that Zoe would love it.

Just as I was about to stick it in her polka-dot piano bag, I looked at the front of the notebook and noticed something stuck to the first page, under the laminate cover. Upon closer inspection, I realized that this notebook would never work.

For those of you that are fans of The Mean Mom on Facebook, you know (or maybe you don't) that the kick ass cross-stitched Mean Mom profile picture was created by an amazing girl, aka Stitch Out Loud, and given to me as a birthday gift from my husband. Well, when I received the gift, there was a sticker attached to the packaging that I loved so much that I stuck it inside a notebook. My favorite daisy-covered, plastic laminate notebook:

Sorry, Zoe, but I guess you're just going to have to use a plain black spiral notebook for now. However, if you promise me that you'll never, ever play "Toccata" from Khachaturian's Children's Album, Book 2, well, then maybe someday I'll buy you your very own daisy-covered notebook. But your's won't have a special sticker.

To get your own pieces of cross stitched greatness, look no further than here:

ST!#CH OUT LOUD

SENDING AWESOMENESS AND OBSCENITIES INTO THE WORLD ONE STITCH AT A TIME.

Belated May Day

It's Cinco de Mayo today, which means that in addition to being able to justify the consumption of numerous margaritas and tacos, it also means that it was May Day a few days ago. I guess I sort of knew that it was May Day since I briefly glanced at an article in the newspaper about how no one distributes May Baskets anymore and what a travesty it was, because May Baskets make people happy. The first thing I thought of was gee, maybe it's because all of the people that have normally put together the May baskets have dealt with people like my neighbor (no, it's not the weed wacker neighbor, it's a different a neighbor) and have realized that no matter what you do, it's never enough and no one appreciates it, and contrary to popular belief, sometimes May Baskets end up just pissing people off.

Before we moved into our neighborhood about a dozen years ago, I stopped by and introduced myself to our new neighbors. Hi, my name is Jody, this is Zach, yes I'm pregnant, no I'm not from China, yes I speak English, etc., etc. I learned later that she then mentioned to other neighbors that she had "met the new buyers" but couldn't remember much about us because "due to the accent, she had a hard time understanding me." This was not a good sign.

Shortly after we moved in, May 1st arrived. Now, I had no idea that a stupid thing like May Baskets even existed until she called me and asked me if we wouldn't mind putting one together and leaving it on their front step to surprise her youngest daughter. Since I didn't want to be known as the neighbor with the accent who also happens to be a tightwad, un-fun and cranky, I said sure and took Zach to Target. After all, I'm sure we needed toilet paper and a couple other things anyway.

Turns out, it was kind of fun buying small gifts for a little girl. We filled a beach bucket with lip balm, stickers, some new crayons, a small book and some candy, put a ribbon on top, brought it home and then ding dong ditched the thing.

While I wasn't expecting a thank-you phone call or even a May Basket in return, I for sure wasn't prepared when I got a phone call for the sole purpose of bitching me out. What did I think this was, some kind of competition? Why would I be so blatantly indulgent and over-the-top? It was just supposed to be a May Basket, not a gift-giving holiday. Didn't I know better? Apparently I didn't, because this whole "request gifts for your own kid from a complete stranger thing" was kind of new to me.

Needless to say, since that year, May 1st has always come and gone without a May Basket in sight. Throughout the years, there have been random requests from this same neighbor for a cup of flour here or a stick of butter there or hey, I'm making baked potatoes for dinner and do you have six potatoes? (Seriously, if you're going to make baked potatoes, but then realize that you have no potatoes, make the damn rice.) For all I know, maybe when I say "sure, I'll leave the contents of my pantry on the front step" someone is hanging up the phone and complaining about the fact that I didn't deliver the requested item, or didn't just offer to make dinner for her, or how dare I actually have the ingredient on hand because now I made her look bad.

It's frustrating that for some people, doing what they ask or having what they want still is never enough to make them happy and no matter what, they'll always find something to be pissed about. And with that thought...I think it's time for a margarita!

All I Need Is Love. And Vodka.

The ads that arrive with the Sunday paper the week before Mother's Day always make me laugh because they are covered with phrases like "Gifts to Wow Mom, Make You're Mother's DAY, All Mom's Favorites" or my favorite so far: "Get Mom a FREE! Fleet Farm Gift Card with the Purchase of Ladies' Apparel by Carhartt Woman." Really, just what every mom wants: A hideous t-shirt, and a gift card so that she can go stock up on Tootsie Rolls, trailer jacks and bird seed.

Doug has already wrapped my Mother's Day present, and I'm dying to know what he got me because he always gets me great gifts. The only thing that I told him I wanted was foldable, portable lawn chairs that don't suck ass, and the box he wrapped is much too small to be lawn chairs. He told me that I could open it early, but I'm going to act like an adult, resist the offer and force myself to patiently wait until Sunday. Or at least Saturday night.

The best thing about Doug's gift buying skills is that he doesn't sit around until the last minute and then rely on the Sunday ads in order to figure out what to get me. Plus, he pays attention to what I like, and what I absolutely hate receiving:

1. Everything listed on the "Don't buy me this for Xmas" list.
2. A wall hanging that says things like "Where Hope Grows, Miracles Blossom" or "Family is a little world created by love."
3. Gift sets by Yankee Candle, because if there's anything worse than having one Yankee Candle in the house, it's having two. Or more.
4. A Perfect Brownie Pan, Pancake Puff Pan, Perfect Omelet Pan, or any other type of pan that would result in me spending time in the kitchen making food that I don't even enjoy eating.
5. A gazing ball, garden globe or whimsical yard figurine, unless I also receive a new baseball bat.
6. Perfume, no matter how enticing the gift set may seem. And specifically, if I were to ever receive a bottle of Britney Spears Circus Fantasy perfume, I can guarantee that there would be one less gift giver in existence, which would mean more oxygen for the rest of us.
7. A Nintendo DSi XL, because buying one of these is like telling me "Here you go, honey, because you're old. And in addition to this gift, I also bought you a subscription to the large print Reader's Digest."
8. Any undergarments that incorporate the word "Shaper."
9. A gift card to any store that may very well sell cute shirts, but also sells toilet paper and cleaning supplies.
10. Any makeup that includes the words "Bobbi Brown, MAC" or "Stila" is fine. But if it includes the words "Kit, Madame, Shitty" or "Value Set," just get a gift card.
11. Any apparel that has a floral pattern, horizontal stripes or an empire waist. And anything that has a...actually, you know what, just don't buy me clothes.
12. Board games, unless it's the kind where I always win.

Now that I'm looking at this list of all the things that I don't want, I'm worried that maybe I am kind of picky and hard to buy for. But then I came across the ad insert for MGM Liquors and between the Absolut vodka, Sailor Jerry rum, Fat Tire beer and Fetzer wine, I realize that I'm not picky at all. In fact, if all of the above were wrapped up in a box and given to me next Sunday, that's a gift that would definitely make my Mother's Day.