Dude, where's my rain barrel?

This is a story from earlier this month of the Funniest Thing Ever:

Two younger guys come to the door--probably selling some kind of service. The dog is barking like mad, but when I get to the door I can hear them talking. So I don't open it, I just spy through the peep hole and listen:

Dude 1: (in a totally DudeBro voice) What the hell is it?

Dude 2: (same voice) It's a bath tub. huh huh.

1: No it's not, it's a trough. For animals.

2: But he* doesn't Have any animals...

(both remove caps and scratch heads)

2: Dude! It's to catch the water from the Rain!!

1: Oh YEAH!! Look at the rain gutter going right into it!

2: Dude, he uses the Rain water INSTEAD of the hose to water his lawn.

(They both look around)

2: But, um....he doesn't have any lawn.

(much laughing)

1: Still, dude, it's pretty damn smart...

Which do you choose....

Front or top loader, front or top loader?????? It's the Question of the Day.

Have you seen any ads for top loading washing machines lately? No, all the ads are for the vibrant-colored, multi-functioned, "water-saving" front loaders. It's like the couple who had a perfectly adequate child, but then gave birth to a genius. The new kid's all anyone ever talks about anymore, and the adequacy of the first born is completely forgotten; indeed, even *gasp* ill regarded.

But you know what? I love my first born. Sure the new kid has bells and whistles. But is he Better? By the way, I AM talking about my washing machines, here...

When the Doodle was born we decided to do our part for ecology And our wallets by using cloth diapers. Sure you pay more upfront, but a lot less in the long run. And you rescue the landfill from upwards of Three THOUSAND non-biodegradable packages of poo. I digress.

We bought a front loader because the new cloth diapers require Two full wash cycles and a second rinse on the second wash. That's a LOT of water. Using that much water in a top loader almost (but not really) offsets the savings both on the bank account and the planet. But like I said, not really. Enter front loader. The front loaders use a Lot less water. Fifteen- twenty gallons as opposed to 40-50 in a top loader. The idea is that the front loader does not need to Fill. It just swishes the clothes And the water around at a high speed. Well, after FIVE FULL CYCLES there was Still doodoo on the edges of the diapers. Why? No agitator. Did Laura Ingalls take her laundry down to the river and swish it through the water? NO, she used a wash board. For a reason. (Her grandmother used a rock!) Swishing water will NOT get grime off your clothes.

But that's not all folks. Let's go back to Chem 101 lab. You have some clothes. They have some dirt. You add some water. You make a dirt-water solution. Which solution will be stronger, the 15 gallon H2O or 40 gallon H2O? So you are basically washing your duds in mud.

Okay, so you don't have a baby (so hopefully no diapers), but you Do have a desk job (no grime). Try the napkin test. Take your folded cloth napkin and deposit some crumbs in the innermost fold. Put the folded napkin into the wash with the rest of the laundry. Wash.

When you remove the laundry, you will find the napkin still neatly folded. Open it and inside you will find the crumbs. So you think you will just make Sure to unfold all your napkins and right-side-out all your socks? If the cycle isn't strong enough to unfold a napkin, how will it get the sweat out of your shirt?

Not only that, but if you hate doing laundry as much as most people say they do, you will hate even More having to DRY your washer every time you use it. Because the gasket that keeps the water in while it's washing Also keeps it in when it's Done washing. Hello mold. So you can either dry it every time or de-mold it most times. Or don't. The clothes aren't clean anyway, why worry about the mold?

This may not be enough argument against front load washers. I have friends who swear by them still. To them I say, next time you curse your deodorant for failing you, look to your washer instead....


(this story came to mind while listening to The Pet Shop Boys, West End Girl, where he says.." which do you choose? A hard or soft option?" Yeah, a stretch, but that's the way my brain works...)

Many Myths Are Based In Truth

Jerry Couchman was my archenemy. He was a class clown. He was a smart assed kid. He was loud and obnoxious. He was the boy version of me. I hated that he could wiggle his ears. And big ears they were, accentuated by his crew cut. 

That year my favorite show was Star Trek. The original Star Trek. Not that mamby pamby spinoff Next Generation. Not Deep Space Nine. The Enterprise fashioned from a flashlight and a paper plate.

I was enamored of Mr. Spock. He had the ability to Not Feel. He did not care if no one wanted to play with him at recess. He didn’t get spankings or feel remorse at his misgivings. He certainly was not Stupid. He was smart. Smarter even, maybe, than my grampa. He could raise one eyebrow to indicate that you, clearly, were Wrong. The single eyebrow raise that I now use to indicate my feeling that you are full of shit. I gave that look to the school photographer that year, and later on to Santa Claus.

But those ears! If I had ears like that, no amount of wiggling would trump. Jerry Couchman could eat it. And thus I sat day after day at my desk, two unsharpened pencils, writing ends standing on the desk top, eraser ends tucked firmly into the top fold of my outer ear, my head and gravity providing the resistance that would eventually create the points.

A short attention span does not lend itself to the time consuming task of changing the shape of one’s ears, and I gave up. I can wiggle my ears now, though. And raise Both eyebrows individually, rapidly even, forming a wave.

So eat it, Jerry Couchman.

"Many myths are based on truth, captain."

- Spock, on the existence of Eden in the episode, "The Way to Eden".

- Spock, on the existence of Eden

Hello??? Is this the party to whom I am speaking?

Dear Phone App Inventors,

I would like a new app. A ring tone app. Yeah, I know, there are a million of them already.  Currently on my Blackberry Tour I can assign different tones to email, to text messaging, to  SMS and MMS (and to ABC, THC and ADHD). And I can do that for Everyone in my address book.

Problem is, only one person calls me. (Yes, I admit, I only got the Crackberry because I wanted to fit in with the cool kids but could not afford an iPhone. Yes, I DO go on and on about how Blackberry is every bit as good , if not better, than iPhone and about how badly AT & T sucks.)

Back to the point. I need a ring tone app. I need a Carousel ring tone app. See, I really like that one person who calls me. And I really liked the song I assigned to her number.  But it’s the only song I ever hear and I am now sick of it. Now, if I really Was one of the cool kids and my phone was blowin up (do they still say that, or did it die with the Beepers?) I’d hear different songs all day. What I would like is to hear a different song every time that one special person calls. And I don’t want to change the setting all the time. And I don’t want it to Shuffle and pick random songs from my entire music library because, frankly, I don’t have great taste in music and I don’t want to offend anyone while I’m in public.

Do you think you can help me out with this, Phone App Inventors? I’d really appreciate it!

Lisa

Let Your Intentions Be Known

Speaking of driving, does it piss you off when drivers don’t use their turn signal? I’m betting you answered yes, because everyone I’ve ever asked has answered yes. Even friends who I know for a fact do Not use their turn signals. It’s such a prevalent peeve, yet such a flagrant act, that it almost seems there must be some misunderstanding. That’s it, I think. It’s a Big, Fat Misunderstanding! I mean, why call it a Turn Signal? Or, the technical name, directional. I can SEE what direction you’re going. You’re doing it Right In Front of me. Oh, I can Tell you are turning right from your left hand lane or trying to position your car in a space in the lane which my car already occupies. I can SEE you doing it. Now, if I just had a little advanced warning. If only there were some way I could know beforehand what your intentions are………

OH!! What if cars had Intentionals? I mean, sure there would be some kind of financial burden. We’d all have to take our cars in to the dealerships, losing an hour or two of pay at work, so they could white out the word Directional in the handbook and replace it with Intentional. I’m sure it would cost at Least a hundred and fifty dollars. But think of all the confusion it would save, not to mention LIVES!! In fact, the world could probably exist in peace if Only We Knew what the other drivers’ intentions were. 

I’m gonna vote for it, how about you?

(brought to you by this conversation in the car with my 8 year old son)

Son:  Mom, why can’t the world just exist in peace?

Me:  Sweetie, people can’t even seem to use their turn signals on the freeway. How do you think we can achieve peace?

Son: True.

Beam Me Up, Scotty

You know what I love about California? Everyone has rights. Well, mostly. Okay, some. But everyone Wants them, that’s for sure. For example, I want the right to breathe my air free of cigarette smoke. After all, I only smoke at the bar, and I only go on weekends and Monday holidays.  And occasionally for midweek happy hour on a Tuesday and/or Wednesday. So I shouldn’t be forced to suck down someone else’s bad habit on a regular basis.  To guarantee me my rights, smoking is Against the Law in California. Well, not everywhere. Just inside. And within 50 feet of inside. And near outside places that serve food. And on the beach. But drinking on the beach is against the law anyway, so that doesn’t matter?

Talking on your cell phone while driving your car is also against the law. As it should be. I have the right to feel safe while traveling on the street or highway whether I am a pedestrian jay walking or a fellow driver/make up putter oner/burger eater/chain smoker (still legal in my car), so you need to put that device Down before you cause more accidents. And by down, I mean on your knee. No, not that knee--that one is for steering the car.  Or, if you’re smart, like the rest of us, you can just hold it away from your face. That’s right, officer, it’s not a Phone, it’s Star Trek Communicator. And (so far) Communicators are not against the law.

Hot, hot, hotter than Hell....

So my standing Monday walking date with my friend got cancelled because it was a hundred and sixteen fucking degrees today. What the hell? San Diego costs a fortune because we have a "temperate" climate that everyone wants to live in . I'm saying if the climate is no longer temperate, then the cost of living should go down! It was hotter here than Vegas! And THEN........my air conditioner broke.

Remember back in the day when the TV broke and your dad gave it a smack to fix it? (Maybe your parents weren't handy like that.)  Well that's how I fixed the AC.  A couple of months ago it went on the blink and started blowing air temperature air. I called the guy who installed it and he sent out his lackey. Well the lackey was a Very Nice guy and explained to me the problem. He said, Try this before you call next time to save the 65 dollar visit. But I forgot what he said to try. What I Did remember is after he said it, I said, Oh yeah, like back in the day when your dad would kick the TV and it would work!

So I was starting to flip out because it was 85 and rising in the house and over a hundred outside. My wife is like, What did he do to fix it, and my brain is melting and I can't think. And she's like, Oh let's just call them and I'm remembering how it's going to cost More this time. And I'm starting to have an anxiety attack. So she gets an ice pack and puts it on my neck. And I go outside and kick the AC.

Fixed.

Oldies But Goodies...

Sunday, April 08, 2007

Sheep

So here it is, 3:00 in the morning and I'm wide awake. Why? Because a mockingbird lives in the tree next door. Now, I've never read To Kill a Mockingbird. I do know it wasn't about knockin off one of those loudmouth fuckers, but I guarantee, at some point, Harper Lee, like anyone else who has ever heard a mockingbird, has wanted to kill one.

But the noise isn't what's keeping me awake. See, after 2 solid weeks of listening to that thing I finally got up and went out into the yard, got a few rocks and chucked 'em at the tree. Well that bird immediately stopped his warbling, and I have not heard him in the last hour. I think I really have killed him. THAT'S what's keeping me awake! I mean, I don't kill spiders (I actually caught a black widow in a cup and moved him to a location away from my house) or even Ants. Yet, here I am, throwing rocks at a defenseless little bird.

For the first half hour of my guilt-induced insomnia I tried to avoid thoughts of my crime by focusing on the state of air travel. I can absolutely not believe that we, as citizens (OR visitors) are standing idly by while "they" tell us we cannot carry shampoo, deoderant and mouthwash in our luggage. No one stands up and says, "Hey, you let me wash or I'm not flying on your damn airlines!" Yeah, I know it's not that simple, but it's three in the morning and I've just killed a mockingbird. It's something to think about.

Now that I've decided to just stop washing when I travel (that'll show 'em!!), I have to focus on something else. I turned on the TV while waiting for The Slowest Computer In The World to come to life and discovered, to my complete Joy, that Star Trek is on TV Land. And not that cheesy knock-off, Deep Space Nine, or even The Next Generation, but the Real Star Trek, circa 1969. Boy, those folks were on some serious dope! But the show is bringing flashbacks of childhood--which, of course, are fueling my insomnia. Not to mention that Star Trek is followed by another childhood fave, Sanford and Son. (dadadada--dadadada,dadada--dadadada).

Good thing I've seen all the ST episodes 400 times, because I am having to watch with no sound to avoid waking up the wife and kid. Also good that the Easter Bunny has already stopped by, because Trevor would never forgive me if our house got skipped cuz I was up watching shows I've seen a thousand times (or because I killed a poor little bird.)

So now you're probably wondering, "What's this all got to do with Sheep?" Well, when I first got up it was to rant about society, full of sheep who will be told what we can bring on airplanes, who will let people feel us up (I mean pat us down), who will be embarassed when the "security" people start pulling our "toys" out of our suitcases under pretense that it looked like a weapon, all because we are scared that everyone else on the plane is a potential terrorist. I say, if I can't wash my hair, rinse my mouth, drink my bottled water, wear my Shoes, not get accosted, and comfortably hide sex toys in my suitcase, then fuck 'em. I'll swim to Hawaii!

Warp speed, Mr. Sulu...

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thursday, November 09, 2006

My grampa was an inspiration to me. He taught me to read very young and I like to think I learned how to write from him, though my style is now my own. He retired as Post Master from the Newport Post Office. He had the position only one year--surely he took it to ensure a better rate of retirement. He and my grandma had an insurance company, I think while they were both employed at the post office. In addition my grampa worked part time at Disneyland. He said it was to increase his future collection from Social Security, but I also think he just loved Disneyland.

My grampa took my to Disneyland every year while I lived in OC. Once, I must have been 6, he let me go to a show by myself. The park was about to close and I pleaded for this One Last Thing, grampa!! He told me he was going to go to the card shop on Main Street while I was in the show and to Wait For Him if I didn't see him when I got out. (This was probably 1972 and people actually watched out for little kids instead of stealing them.) I got out of the show and he wasn't there. I knew exactly where the card shop was--I Was six years Old, afterall--and decided to go meet him there. Well, they must have moved the shop because I got lost. Like I said, the park was closing and throngs of people were moving toward the exit. (It wasn't like it is now when people mow you down!) I ended up on a bench near the exit, crying. A family saw me there on the bench and spoke to me in Spanish and I cried in English that I lost my grampa. They took me to a Disneyland Constable. The Disneycop took me to City Hall where my grampa was standing at the top of the steps after just reporting me lost. He was SO happy to see me that he didn't even get mad, which, in my six year old mind was the logical response to my "misbehavior".

We used to sing "Hi ho hi ho, to Disneyland we go" on the way. He always bought me a hat and one year the witch in Sleeping Beauty's Castle stole it. He bought me a souvenir, besides the hat, and a balloon everytime. He would say, "Yemmie, that costs a dollar twenty five. Do you have a dollar twenty five?" I would retort, "No... Grampa, have You got a dollar twenty five?" He'd say, "Yemmie, a fool and his money are soon parted," and buy me the thing I wanted. He'd be astonished at the prices now, and I don't think the fool would be parted from his money so easily. Once he took me to the potty--I was, I think, three, and had to go into the men's bathroom with him. He went in and used one stall while I used another. He came out of the stall to find me washing my hands...in the urinal. What did I know? Running water, dirty hands, three years old. What would You have done?

We frequently went to Prentice Park and the Santa Ana Zoo. One day, I was probably five, I picked up this really bad looking peanut from the ground. I studied it a bit and said to my grampa, "Grampa, I didn't know peanuts got rotten." He loked at the peanut, looked at me, and said, "That's not a peanut, Yemmie, that's a rabbit turd."

My grampa used to take me to the dump with him (I mean the Landfill.) I don't remember if it was a regular outing or not. I do know that on at least one occasion he had to push the car because it had stalled or something, and I had to steer. I can't imagine how much actual steering I did in a non power car while standing on the seat 'cause it was the only way I could see over the dash. He also used to "sneak" me into the Post Office on Sundays. He'd push me around in the, what seemed at the time, HUGE canvas cart used to carry the mail. (I've seem them since; they're not so big.)

I spent many weekends with my grandparents when my mom was single and also later. Every Saturday we had Kentucky Fried Chicken, and every Sunday my grandma made chilli. My grampa would add chilli sauce and ketchup. He'd tell my grandma, "Dorothy, you make the best chilli," and she'd say, "How do you know?" In my quest to emulate, I'd also add that stuff to my chilli. I don't know if that was the cause, but one night after chilli I barfed my guts outs. I didn't eat chilli for many years after that, and never my grandma's.

Every weekend Grampa would read the paper. He'd read me the "funnies" and then the stock report. If his stocks were doing well, he'd say "Be rich!". If they were down he'd say "Be poor." If we were Be Rich we'd buy a big bag of peanut M & M's.

Once he read me Dr Suess's Hop on Pop. I thought it was a Grand idea and did just that later while he was napping on the couch.

Every year he would take me to Toys R Us before Christmas. I got to pick out one thing that I wanted to get for Christmas. We would spend Eternity in that place, and I 'd find something on every aisle. "Grampa, this is what I want"; next aisle, "Oh Grampa, this is what I really want!"; next aisle, "Oh Grampa! This is what I Really and Truly want!"

What I Really and Truly want for Christmas this year is my Grampa. But he went the way he wanted to--with no fanfare or pain. He lived his life the way he wanted. He travelled the world and saw all of The Wonders but the Taj Mahal. He's probably there now. He was sad that he'd outlived his wife and one of his daughters, but not so overwhelmed that he stopped living. He was well known and well liked. He was a Past Grand Master of the Masonic Lodge, an Elk and probably held numerous postions I will never know about. He was a Shriner and was in parades, but I don't think he drove the funny little cars. He was very charitable. My grampa meant the world to me, and I miss him

The World Coming Together In Peace...

...but you can only see it on NBC.

What the Eff?

Has it always been like this? I feel like the Olympics used to have better, and maybe more, television coverage. I could be wrong. This may be the first time I've (tried to watch) the Winter Olympics in about 20 years. But in Olympic years that's not as long as it sounds.

My son, now eight years old, was finally old enough to express interest. But instead of learning about Winter sports, team camaraderie, and friendship among nations, he learned that he may be the only 8 year old who goes to bed before 8 pm. Due only to the fact that his school district takes off an entire week for President's Day (now week) he was able to catch a couple of rounds of Curling on CNBC. His question mirrored mine exactly: What IS that? He turned to me and said, "I think they sweep the floor in front to move the dirt so the ball can go farther." That may be as close to the truth as we'll ever get. God help me if that becomes his chosen sport. I prefer my temperate climate, thank you very much, and unless there is a gymnasium floor, or grass, version of curling, he ain't playin' it. Or doing it. Or curling it, or whatEver it's called.

Got Hemorrhoids?

No? How about razor rash? Or facial luggage (a.k.a. Eye Bags)?

So it happened. Who knows how--maybe from hour upon hour of sitting on your ass Facebooking with every elementary, junior and high school mate you ever knew (or didn't know until now.) Maybe you have a desk job (see above). Maybe you're actually really fit, but you stay that way cycling. In any case, even though you're young, you developed a small (tiny, really, barely Noticeable!!) case of..................

HEMORRHOIDS

Too embarrassed to ask your doctor, you called your mom. Coyly you asked if She'd ever suffered from this ailment, "...because, you know, a rather young friend of mine says he has this problem, and well, how would I know what to do?" Your mom (who Still knows Everything you do, by the way) suggests Tucks pads. She's street savvy enough to know if you walk up to the register with a tube of Prep H, even the 14 year old cashier will know your problem. But who the hell even Knows what Tucks pads are?

So you take your mom's advice, none's the wiser, and a few wipes of the fault line later you're itch/pain free and all is well. Well...

Except now you have this jar of Tucks pads hanging out in the bathroom. You don't want to throw them away, but what good are they? That's a good question.

I wonder if they'd be good for razor rash? I mean, they decrease inflammation and itch, right? Well if they decrease inflammation, will they work on eye bags? I've heard of people using Prep H for eye bags, but who wants to walk around with a greasy face that smells like Granny's ass? In that case, I wonder if they have any affect on spider veins? I mean, hemorrhoids are basically varicose veins in your butt, right? (The answer is Yes, by the way.)

Okay, so I went to the store and bought some Tucks pads. No, of Course I don't have hemorrhoids!! Do they work for razor burn? They seemed to help with the dreaded Bikini Shave. You know, the one that leaves you hobbling like a gimp two days later and looking for elasticless panties and clothes that don't cling.

They "seemed" to help with eye bags from lack of sleep. However, as for the circles that exist because you are Old and your skin is thinning around the eyes...Well, I wouldn't know, of course. I'll get back to you in a few decades. haha!

If anyone wants to test the spider/varicose vein theory, let me know. We'll post the results of your scientific study here.

Things you can't do if you're famous--AND--Dude, where's my Ego?

If you're famous, you can't dance crazily in your car with the windows down to Art of Noise's version of Kiss and have s a little kid in the car next to you open his window and happily wave to you Just Because You're Fun, not because you're Famous. If I'd a pulled a stunt like that as the Famous Person I once wished to be, I'd be hanging out with Britney Spears lamenting anything I'd ever done publicly...

In other news, Dude, where's my ego? Yesterday a car on the freeway Totally cut me off and I DID NOT fly the bird. *gasp* In fact, I did not Even CARE. I'm looking for the pod because my identity has most certainly been 'napped and replaced. Today in Costco--yes, I went to Costco on Christmas Eve--there was Pure Madness. I thought surely if I wasn't run down in the parking lot, I'd be run down in the aisles. Samples? Yeah, if you're willing to Die for them. No thanks. Even Little Dude sensed the craziness and did not perform his usual Costco Chant (ILovesamplesILovesamplesILovesamples...). I looked diligently up and down every aisle for my Ego, but try as I might, I couldn't find it. I let people pass me, I let them stand in my way, I just didn't care. Not in a Eff This sort of way, just in a happy-doodling-along sort of way. Like Pooh in The Tao Of Pooh. When I got to the parking lot and saw the way the Giant SUV had parked next to me so that I couldn't easily move my car I thought I'd get mad. I Tried to be upset. The woman arrived at said vehicle at the same time. I opened my mouth to say something snarky, and out came, "I'll wait for you and let you pull out to make it easier for you." And I Smiled! At someone else's Transgression! If That's not a sign that the word will end in 2012, I don't know what is...

HAPPY HOLIDAYS (and just a tad conspiracy theory...)

Using one's blog to post a Holiday Letter. Ain't the interwebs Grand? ;)

Good Christmas Eve All,

Well, as many of you have probably already guessed, I'm not a big Card Giver. There are a number of reasons for this: I'm in the running for the reduce/reuse/recycle award. Yeah, there is no such thing, but, boy, if there was... Also, I know when we receive cards we are faced with the dilemma of whether or not to chuck 'em, and when. It feels so callous to just toss it in the recycle bin straight away, but eventually it's going to end up there. Lastly, I just plain procrastinate. At least now I can blame it on my Eco-Green-Hippy beliefs. For those of you who I've know for years and have never gotten a card (or on time, at least), I apologize. ;)

And, who would I be without a little conspiracy? Since we All know Hallmark (et al) is largely to blame for our Need to Spend at the holidays, I say...Well, you know what I would say, but somehow it seems inappropriate in a Holiday letter.

Well sir, it's been a year alright. Plenty of not-so-great things have happened, but, really, why dwell? Lots of Good things have happened and that's what counts! (Well, technically, without the "bad" things the "good" things would not seem as swell, but that's a different discussion for a different time.) I'm sad that another year has passed, but looking forward to the upcoming one, with a vow to be more present in the moment so it doesn't slip by so fast.

Happy Holiday, whichever you observe, and Happy MidWinter if you observe none! May you have a pleasant day, week, month, year, life...............

Always,

Ten Reasons to Use Paper Grocery Sacks as Gift Wrap

For the Greenies:

If you Have paper grocery sacks in your home, you are clearly not remembering to take your recycled burlap-coffee-sack-turned-grocery-bag-made-by-fair-trade-organic-starving-farmers-in-South America to Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods. Redeem your Ecological Karma by reusing the bag as wrapping paper

For the Patriots:

Paper sacks were invented by a Union soldier. But, chances are your bag was not produced in the United States of America. Chances are high that neither was your wrapping paper. Do your Patriotic Duty and use your paper grocery sack to make, right here in the Good Ol’ U S of A, your own gift wrap.

For Those Who Don’t Wrap So Well:

Your package is gonna look like a chimpanzee wrapped it—now you can blame it on the bulky paper.

For the Arteeests:

You didn’t let a random number generator computer program pick your gift, why wrap it in some generic wrap that anyone and everyone has already seen? Design it yourself and show that special someone how much they really mean.

For the Non-Artists:

Use Reason One or Two as a story to distract the person while s/he is unwrapping the plain-paper gift.

For the Fastidious Un-Wrapper:

Everyone has one in the family. This person takes an agonizingly long time to unwrap his or her gift, acting as if this paper is the most valuable resource on the planet. Aunt Besty may be planning to reuse the paper, may have OCD or may just be a pain in the ass. Get back at her by giving her some wrapping that is impossible to undo neatly.

For the Ripitopenlikeitstryingtogetaway Un-Wrapper:

Why waste money buying beautiful gift wrap for these folks? They obviously don’t care. In reality, save the bag and don’t wrap these gifts at all. Unless it’s for children, in which case, the thickness of the grocery bag may actually slow the process down a little. (I suggest packing tape for these also.)

For the Frugal:

You never throw anything away and hate spending money. Need I say more?

For the Spendy:

Look like you give a crap about the environment and the economy at the same time by wrapping the latest version of iPhone for your 10 year old (since he surely can’t be caught dead with last year’s model) in some home made gift wrap. But only if he is un-wrapping it at a huge gala where lots of folks will see it.

Lastly, if you are reading this you have not wrapped your packages, and there is no chance in hell you will get anything decent in the store, even after fighting the last-minute shopping crowd.

Have a happy holiday season, all!!