That's not the one I wanted.

It's Christmas morning and I'm so excited. Its one of the first years I can buy my mom something really nice & expensive (not that gifts need to be expensive but when it's your mom, you want to give her the best). So there she is opening up her gift. She sees that Burgundy box with the red ribbon & she knows that she's getting a little treat from a heavenly store called COACH. She opens it with the biggest brightest smile and I am smiling right along with her. My heart is full of joy and I'm a little in awe of my own greatness; "I made my Mother's day". She opens the box, looks at her beautiful bag and says....."Well this isn't the one I wanted." And then I die inside!...That was Christmas about 2 years ago.  Now my mom is not by any means an ungrateful person. She appreciates everything that shes given. But I guess that year (which was one of the few years she provided us with a list of things she'd like; we do that in our house to avoid confusion. Go figure) she expected something else. Now in her defense she sent me the link to the bag she wanted. But in my defense she never specified the color.

So when did Christmas become so difficult and complicated? And when did the rule become that a person needed to receive multiply gifts to feel loved?  Now in my case, I'm extremely spoiled and I love getting so many gifts; I was the only child for 16 1/2 years so I expect nothing less. HOWEVER as I'm getting older I'm noticing that we kill ourselves trying to find that perfect present to compliment our loved ones lives and it usually ends up in the back of some closet, collecting dusts and being eaten by moths. Its insane the lengths we go through for these things. Remember the year of the "Cabbage Patch"? Or the Year of the "Tickle Me Elmo"? Or even last year with those awful hamsters, the "ZuZu Pets". Which on a side note, my sister doesn't even play with anymore; and my mother bought her a huge play set to go along with about 8 of these little rats). I was looking under the couch the other day and saw one of those little bastards. I screamed bloody murder thinking it was a rat! Stupid crap...

I still believe that there is a Santa Clause. But I also believe that he looked at our lists year in and year out and said to himself "Fu*k this $h!t. These people are nuts with these asinine request. I'm out to Bermuda" and then never came back. And who can blame him. So now we struggle as Santa Clause's to our friends and family. So if you've busted your hump to find that perfect treasure, killed yourself at some mall, in some store burning up like the pits of hell on some godforsaken line, and someone dare ask for a gift receipt. Politely smile, stand up, walk over to them and punch 'em right in the throat and then simply walk away. :)

So how's your Christmas shopping coming along? Done yet? I know I'm not.