Tis the season for white elephant gift exchange parties. Hooray! Well, hooray for you. Not for me. I used to love white elephant parties. That is, until I gave the worst white elephant gift of all time.
Let’s back up.
Many moons ago I was a freshman at a small 2 year college. I was a choir nerd—meaning I spent 90% of my time at the music building and I was thought it was socially acceptable to randomly burst into song. 1/3rd of my choir time was spent in Show Choir. (Which multiplies the nerd factor by 5.)
I sauntered into my Show Choir rehearsal one day and heard my teacher in the middle of an announcement about our upcoming choir Christmas party. Part of the party included a gift exchange. Our instructor explained that the annual gift exchange had a reputation for hilarious and sometimes gross gifts. “One year,” she said, “a boy brought a lump a fudge that looked just like dog poop.” She ordered us not to spend any money and her only requirement was that we bring something funny.
Free, funny and a teensy bit inappropriate? I was all over it. Mr faux-poop was about to get schooled.
It took a couple of weeks to come up with the perfect gift. I was brushing through my hair when the idea hit me..
A hairball. A giant hairball!
I happened to lived on a floor with 24 girls. 24 girls = 24 hairbrushes full of hair! Brilliant, right? Pretty soon I had assembled the biggest/most gag inducing hairball on the planet.
I walked into our Show Choir Christmas party confidently. I placed my nicely wrapped package in the center of the room and anticipated the laughter that was sure to come.
We drew numbers and my classmates started picking gifts and unwrapping them.
Gift #1: An old candle. Lame.
Gift #2: Top Ramen. Double Lame
Gift #3: A Christmas CD. Whoops.. someone didn’t get the disgusting memo!
Gift #4: A miniature Christmas Tree. Brand new.
Gift #5: A Christmas Ornament.
Present after present was unwrapped and not a single present was gross. Every single gift was useable and most of them were downright NICE!
My stomach churned into a knot as Lisa stood up. Little Miss Lisa. The girl who brought the Christmas tree because she “didn’t want to be rude.” The girl who had never pumped her own gasoline. Dainty dancer Lisa who always looked perfect.
She picked my gift.
She picked MY GIFT!
I shifted in my seat.
She started to unwrap.
I considered running over and stealing it. (The gift giving was anonymous so I decided to play it cool.)
She opened the box with a smile. Her smile melted into a horrified grimace as she slowly pulled out my surprise and threw it across the room while screaming.
She thought it was a dead animal.
I prayed that the ground would open up and swallow me whole.
Unfortunately, anonymity flew out the window as my dirty rotten bright red face gave me away.
Please. Take some advice from someone who’s been around the gift exchange block a couple of times. Next time you go to one of these “parties” don't take a hairball. (You were thinking about it, huh.) Take something like the Snazzy Napper. It’s funny, it’s usable, and no one will mistake it for a dead animal.
Good luck.
Read more...
Bini, you are gorgeous.
(FYI: If you smile too much, you might become some of my favorite clients. If I chose favorites.. which I don't. But if I did....)
Posts
