Gift cards, please

Lauren and Jesse have registered for their wedding at Target and a few other places.  I have to say it's a wise move.  Trust me, it is better just to tell Aunt Helen what you want than to deal with crap, or the return counter lady when you have to exhange the crap.

In that spirit, as Christmas approaches, I know I won't get anything I want.  I never do.  Not as a child, and certainly not as an adult.

One year I bought Scot a Playstation, a Rush DVD, tons of socks, and a Star Wars pop-up book.  He got me nothing.  I guess I should be grateful though, as I could have been gifted with any of the following:

• Seriously.  Okay, I don't smoke, but I have an idea.  Gloves. 

• Carries up to seven pounds?  To put this in perspective, my children's birth weights were, respectively, six pounds, thirteen ounces, seven pounds, three ounces, and seven pounds, five ounces.  Maybe this is the new Baby Bjorn.

• Just one more chorus of "Don't Stop Believin'" and I'll be through...

• This makes me want to puke, and I love Robert Pattinson.  Are all the recipes blood based?  Just askin' 

 

• Better than Scot.  Just kidding.  I don't really know what to say here.