3 Things No One Wants for Christmas
It's the most awkward time of the year
Gather 'round the artificial XMas tree for helpful advice on gift giving. Sure, we'd all adore a BMW 525i wrapped with a big bow, but most of us can barely afford a Matchbox car from a yard sale. To that end I propose 3 gifts no one wants for Christmas.
I'm here to help and you're here to read.
Even if you have toes and your loved ones have toes, none of us mention toes in polite conversation. Around the Christmas table the subject of nail trimming rarely arises. We'd much rather comment upon Grandma's juicy turkey giblets or debate the merits of identity theft. Toenails are best left to highly qualified experts at salons downtown.
Sure, it's unhealthy to allow your toenails unfettered growth. Best-case you'll lose your favorite pairs of socks. Worst case you can expect fungus, resulting in really annoying TV commercials selling unpronounceable creams and ointments. Keep your nails trimmed, but keep your nails out of Christmas.
How does it work?
Most of us have toes that we can reach. For better or worse our manual dexterity falls far short of culturally acceptable pedicures. We need mechanical devices specially designed for this purpose. None of us wants to venture over the river and through the woods with gnarly nails. I know I don't. You, gentle reader, can provide your gift recipients with hours of nail-trimming fun throughout holiday seasons for many years to come. Stop thinking only about yourself.
Yes, anticide is a word because I say so. It's my gift list so I get to make up words if necessary. Poetic License, it's called. Google may disagree with me, but Google is a nameless faceless multinational conglomerate so what do they know? Even Google doesn't want ant killer for Christmas, if such a nameless faceless conglomerate indeed celebrates such a holiday. Google probably provides employees generous gift baskets replete with no ant killer-related products whatsoever.
Even if your house is replete with ants, you don't want to find this effective and economical product under the Christmas tree on Christmas morning. I'm sure it works with extreme prejudice toward unwanted insects invading your personal space, but it's more of a Labor Day gift or a Columbus Day benevolence.
How does it work?
You, or your proxy as designated by you, dab a few drops along ant pathways. It tastes good, the ants believe. It seems like something they might want to carry back to the colony. They do that posthaste. Unfortunately for the ants it's got something in it that disrupts the cable TV signal or kills the other ants, I can't remember which. This scenario plays out over and over throughout the Christmas holiday in households across our fruited plain. We love our ants when they are outside pollinating or foraging or doing whatever they are predisposed to do. When they venture indoors to check out our chocolate chip cookies, that's when we roll out the Terro Ant Killer Liquid Ant Baits.
The Narrative Continues
So far we have reviewed two discrete gifts wanted by no one for Christmas. I think, overall, that progress is being made. Please pause and administer the following poll to yourself. Please continue reading after that. Your feedback provides valuable input sorely needed by authors such as myself. In the future we hope to produce High Quality content: without your input we cannot hope to rise to levels of wordsmithing worthy of this venerable site.
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We all crave fitness in all its forms. We perform sit-ups and we eat fat-free hamburgers. We long for sleek toned human bodies we can call our own. Hours at the gym we spend.
Someone decided Amazon should be selling mechanisms of death under the guise of exercise. When you have a workout contrivance that can't stand up on its own, its time to rethink your cardiovascular strategy. When you have to lean it against a wall whilst you seek first-aid, consider a more sedate aerobic activity. We all want you to shed those last 125 pounds so your Crocs will fit, but this isn't the way to get there.
How does it work?
It doesn't work. Many things in life don't work. This doesn't work spectacularly. This thing rotates randomly about an eccentric center of gravity from which you are almost precisely the wrong distance. By the time you realize physics is working against you its your time to meet pavement approaching your only face at an alarming rate. If you find yourself hating life as you know it, jump onto one of these inflatable death machines and ruin Christmas for yourself and everyone staffing the Emergency Room. Have your ObamaCare card very handy because both your hands will be broken. Carry sufficient identification because you won't have worn a helmet and you won't be able to tell the nurse where it hurts.
It's been fun and challenging bringing you this compendium of inappropriate Christmas gifts. Thank you for your contribution to literary excellence. Reading this far tells me that you truly care about your fellow man. Giving the wrong gift is like catering ham sandwiches to a PETA meeting: it might seem like a good idea at the time and there will be a few people who support you but eventually mob rule overwhelms your good intentions.
Use sparingly. Common side effects are headache, abnormal heartbeat, unexpected phlegm, dizziness, and nose hair. Consult your doctor before stopping. Do not use if you are allergic to any of the ingredients.