Before I start today...
I FINALLY got someone to do a review of:
...over on Moog's Movie Reviews.
This plea came from this previous post.
Thanks for playing!!
She took my package, and deftly worked it with such care and precision...
...that I was done in a flash.
Let me explain.
This past Saturday night, both of my kids had their first sleepovers at their friends' house.
The wife and I were left...
(queue porn music)
At long last.
Faced with an entire house to ourselves for an entire night...
...with no children jabbering or fighting or annoying us with shit like, "I'm hungry!" or "I'm bored!" or "I'm bleeding!"...
...we looked at each other with a sly wink in our eyes.
And, yes, we did what any couple would do.
We wrapped fucking Christmas presents.
Sometimes I wish I was Jewish and just had to worry about shopping for dreidels and those weird candles and baklava and shit.
So, the wife and I sat there on our bedroom floor with the kids' presents sprawled out in front of us.
My wife was wrapping my daughter, Payton's presents.
I was in charge of my son, Cam's presents.
Aside from sex, wrapping presents is the other thing I'm really really bad at.
This is why I don't give my wife sex for Christmas - it's like two bad presents wrapped in one tiny, premature ejaculating package.
But I've digressed.
About 30 seconds into wrapping my son's first gift, the fucking thing rips through the paper.
Me: "OH, COME ON! I JUST STARTED!"
I look up, already frustrated, and realize that my wife has wrapped 6 of my daughter's presents in the time I've managed to create a three inch tear in my son's first one.
Oh. IT IS ON!!
With 14 square feet of tape and three different kinds of wrapping paper, I manage to finally wrap his first gift.
Me: "TA DA!! I wrapped it...it's your birthday...I wrapped it...it's your.."
My wife has two gifts left.
It's at this time, I realize WHY she only has two left to do.
My daughter's gifts are all in nice, perfectly square or rectangular boxes.
My son's gifts all look like they were created by M.C. Escher.
Each fucking gift has 25 different fucking angles and points and spears sticking out and every goddamn box has been created using geometric angles that defy the laws of physics.
Me: "How can this box have FIVE SIDES?!? I have top...bottom...left side...right side...what the fuck is this?!?"
My wife is now done, just sitting there watching me like she's watching a starving Ethiopian kid on a "Save the Children" commercial.
Sure, the camera guy could have given the friggin' kid a sandwich, but it would mess up the whole balance of nature.
It's that whole 'butterfly beating it's wings causes a hurricane' thing...
...except this time it's me screwing up my son's Christmas and him becoming a serial killer.
The law of nature says you just have to let this shit play out.
Each of my son's gifts now looks like a little ball of rolled up, creased and semi-folded wrapping paper.
In some cases, I managed to only use two different kinds of paper to wrap the stupid thing! WHODAMAN now?!
I suck at this shit.
Halfway through I realize how bad his stuff really looks.
Me: "Cam is going to wonder why Santa had 'Sparky the Retarded Elf' wrap his shit."
(ABC Family: call me and we'll work out the details for this new Christmas Special!)
My apologies to people offended at the word 'retarded.'
Actually...nevermind...you don't belong here.
Finally, the wife pitched in to save my ass.
A full 13 seconds later, all his gifts were done.
I was spent.
I mean...who wouldn't be spent watching their wife handle packages this way?
I guess Sparky, maybe.
Santa really needs to fire his ass - he really sucks.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Before I start today...