You know, I’ve kind of figured out that if you want a good Christmas present, you’ve got to get it yourself. I think my parents taught me this when I provided concrete evidence that Santa was a lie and gave my list of demands. My parents gave a collective sigh of relief and from then on, each Christmas was preceded by a shopping trip to Hills or whatever had a huge toy aisle, with me filling the cart with my heart’s shallow desires, all to be put on layaway for Christmas day.
So, yeah, Christmas stopped being a surprise around the time I was seven. It took me that long to catch my parents “holding the bag”, so to speak. And now, as an adult, I’ve found that again… if I want a banging Christmas present, I have to pretty much outline it, in immense detail, to the husband… or buy the damned thing myself.
I’ve been lusting over these for months. They were ridiculously expensive, but have since gone on sale. Now they are on their way to me, my lovely Christmas pretties.
We got $200 from each set of grandparents and I just used mine. One might ask, “why didn’t you use that money for one of the five cavities you currently have–two which will require root canals and expensive caps to replace your surfaces?”
To those naysayers, I will simply say, are you fucking insane? Fuck cavities–BOOTS!
Sorry, folks, the cavities are only the tip of the iceberg. Collectively, $600 to fix, BUT I also have $800 a tooth afterwards, on six or seven teeth. It’s moot point, never going to happen. So I don’t fucking care anymore.
