Christmas

What to Get Me for Christmas

1. Special Edition or Hardback copies of my favorite books. Yes, I know I already have three copies of the Fountainhead and the Lord of the Rings, but there's my lending set, my reading in the bath set, my traveling set, and I'd love a coffee table display set. Make my day.

2. A Christmas bonus. (From my imaginary employer...?)

3. Any clothing that contributes to my chosen Pippi Longstocking meets a lumberjack fashion sense. Flannel shirts, durable jeans I can wear sixteen days in a row, flat sneakers.

4. A life-size cardboard cut-out of Tori Amos at her piano (for me to kneel before), a matching glossy poster to put above my bed (for me to drool at before falling asleep), and a personally hand-written note from Tori (that I will rub on my face every morning).

5. Starburst Jelly Beans. My favorite fruity candy, and pretty much the only dessert-like item I'll eat that isn't chocolate.

6. Something on my secret list of guilty pleasure movies/TV: Labyrinth, Fried Green Tomatoes, Sword in the Stone, the complete Everybody Loves Raymond, Family Guy...

7. A kick-ass, complete surprise telescope.

8. Anything Muppets.

9. A kitten. (You can maybe take it back later that night, I just want to play with it for a while. Same with a newborn.)

10. Ummmmmmmm... books.

What Not to Get Me for Christmas

1. Anything that reminds me I have gained weight, that I suffer from post-puberty pimples, or that I have unruly eyebrows. No gym memberships, no books on "100 Easy Ways to Go from Flab to Fab," no manicure sets, no skinny jeans.

2. Anything you bought as a souvenir in San Francisco.

3. Any Mormon propaganda. No checks for my "mission fund." No copies of Ensign talks you thought I might be "interested" in (i.e., SINNER!). No art displaying any scripture. I'll take care of all that myself at my own pace, as I choose... or don't choose.

4. Expensive underwear. It is truly such a nice gesture, and someday, when I'm rich and can afford a whole closet full of (organized by color) expensive undies, I might not be afraid to wear them. For now, I can't imagine wearing a $10 pair of silky drawers that will rub against my ass. They will sit in my closet for years, and I'll pull them out, sigh, and grab the worn-out cotton ones instead. Thank you, though.

Note: Anything in which I am required to pull sex appeal/confidence from deep within in order to wear does NOT count. Don't buy that for me.

5. Tampons, shampoo, toothpaste, or face wash... unless it's some fancy schmany box of organic tampons I would never splurge on for myself. In that case, bring them on.

6. Anything that belongs in a hope chest, including but not limited to china, porcelain dolls, linens, or family Bibles.

7. Anything red and green and Christmassy. I don't care what it is--it's Christmas morning NOW. I can't use this festive decoration/welcome mat/sweater for another twelve months! Fail!

8. An STD.

9. A fake engagement ring. I don't mean a fake stone or anything, I mean a ring (or any gorgeous jewelry) that looks like it should be representative of marriage or romance.

10. Another candle, bag of potpourri, or collection of bath salts.