Today's list is supposed to be 10 things that you probably shouldn't give me as a gift.
So, I am such a happy gift receiver. I don't really care if it's a vacuum, I just like when someone thinks enough of me to give me something, anything that they think will bring me a moment of happiness. Getting gifts from people that aren't like, my immediate family makes me feel a little awkward. I never feel like my reaction is right and I overthink it. But still, it makes me happy that someone thought of me.
I suppose, like anything, there are a few exceptions to that rule. I suppose that I can't say I like EVERYthing. But honestly, even if I didn't like it, I'd like you, for trying.
Probably it wouldn't be a great idea if you got me a small rodent-type animal, like a gerbil, or hamster or rat or something. I don't have a great track record with those gross little things. My sister Jen and I had gerbils when we were younger, named Scamper and Whiskers. I am horrified to admit that Whiskers may have eaten Scamper. And it may or may not have been because we forgot to feed them for a little while.
Clothes are hard. I hate everything. I hate shopping for me and trying things on and things fitting me ugly and oh. Clothes kind of stress me out. Nudity stresses me out quite a bit more though, so clothes are definitely not optional. Just probably not the best idea for a gift.
In that same genre, definitely don't get me underwear or lingerie. For all of the reasons above.
I'd avoid giving me summer sausage. Probably because I wouldn't eat it, I'd just regift it to my sister Ali because she loves summer sausage. That's what she said. Heh.
On that same note, I think it wouldn't be the smartest idea to give me smelly cheese. I love cheese with a good portion of my heart, don't get me wrong, just not those gross fancy smelly ones. I have a weak stomach.
A doll. A doll is a bad idea as a gift for me. Because I am a grown up, that's why.
A stuffed animal, because, once again, I am a grown up. I sleep with a 7 year old glued to my body most of the time. There is no room for a teddy bear in my bed. Unless his name is Ian Somerhalder. Then I'll shove over. Did I just say that out loud?
Some exercise equipment or a scale. You know, unless I ask for it of course. Otherwise, I don't exactly need any subtle hints that you think I am a fatass. Trust me, I am already aware of the status of my ass. Very aware.
A football. Because you know, I don't really play that game.
And finally, cleaning supplies. Oh, I'll take a vacuum, just don't give me Pledge or laundry detergent or something similar. Because you know, I can buy that myself, and there is nothing at all thoughtful about that.
So there you have it.