It’s that time of the year again where the thought counts more than the gift itself… or something like it, so I become the unwilling recipient of scented candles, mugs, and picture frames.  See, it’s not that difficult to get me a gift.  If the store sells alcohol and cigarettes, then you can find a perfectly good gift that you can give me for Christmas.

Yet no matter how much I emphasize the “you-can-make-me-happy-with-vice” motto, nobody gets me a ream of cigarettes or a bottle of whiskey for the holidays.  All I ever really wanted for Christmas was something for me to smoke and something for me to drink, but some people insist on playing through my “mysteriousness” and “intellect.”

Last Christmas, I got copies of “The Purpose-Driven Life,” “Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul,” two copies of “The Alchemist,” and a paperback version of “How to Win Friends and Influence People.”  After talking to my givers who seemed to not have a problem with what I was going to do, I promptly re-gifted the gifts.  Potlatched, so to speak, revolving round the Kula ring.

Instead of thinking hard – or not thinking at all, for that matter – I decided I only want five things for Christmas:

Steampunk glasses. I will look good in them.  The extra lenses will come in handy for peering into documents, or whatever I feel like peering into.  Plus they look awesome.

Flamethrower. I had it up to here with disposable cigarette lighters.  They’re useful for smoking, but I need something to pursue my other hobby: destruction.  With a flamethrower, I can smoke and destroy stuff.

Zhu Zhu Pets. They’re toy hamsters.  On wheels.  With cars.  Children half a world away are clamoring for these cute little stuffed critters.  Heck, I’m clamoring for them.  GET ME A ZHU ZHU PET!!!

Slinky. The metal ones, not the plastic rainbow-colored ones.

Clairol Herbal Essences. Yeah, I’m having a minor hairfall problem, so I’m going to need quite a lot of these.

Anyway, there you go.  Go make me happy, lulz.