Holiday Shopping


So I’m a little late in posting.  It’s exams week. Sue me.  BUT, I decided to shake things up a little bit because I need catharsis.  I need to vent.  I need to be done with Christmas shopping.

I have most of my shopping done, and I do it well in advance.  I from September on, I buy gifts for people to stretch out the wallet pain and so I can, oh, enjoy the idea of buying people stuff.  Because listening to Jingle Bells twelve thousand times is enough to put me over the edge, people.  Especially on November 1st.  And I’m that mean, quiet crazy.  You don’t want that.

But something else that makes me crazy are some of the things that I find around christmas season when I’m out buying toilet paper or other non-gift related items.  The throw-away gifts litter the aisles.  This crap is meant to tempt the public into buying stupid things they would never normally buy.  Ever.  It makes me twitch to think that either the public is that stupid or the geniuses that make this stuff up think we’re so stupid that they actually created them. So I took photos, because I needed proof that these jackass products exist.

Exhibit A.


This is a ceramic flat iron.  It’s a “pro” version.  Yes, it has the nauseating Twilight logo and picture of Edward on it.  It’s sad that I know that this characters name is Edward, because I don’t love tween angst books that defile good urban fantasy genres.  (ahem).  But what kills me is that it’s called the “sparkle” ceramic iron.  Really?  Really?


Likewise, this product also offended the hell out of me.  I looked at this and thought there could be a small market for very old people who don’t have bathtubs or for people who ate Willy Wonka’s blueberry gum.  Neither can reach their toes.  But there were about FIFTY of these on the shelf.  It took up an aisle.  And aisle!  The bottom text, which got cut off, says “never have the inconvenience of bending over to wash your feet again!”  And I realized that said feet in commercial were neither blue nor old.  As a society, do we collectively have that little attention span that washing a body part is too much for us to handle?  At this point, I went down the auto aisle, looking for rope to hang myself with.

Exhibit C.

gift3This one is the best and the worst.  There was once a comedy skit talking about the “tit-kerchief,” a band of cloth that depressed men and lesbians everywhere by covering all cleavage.  I thought the skit was hilarious.  And I have cleavage–I don’t flaunt it, I’m not proud of it, but I’m not ashamed of it either.  I refuse to wear turtlenecks my entire existence (which also make you look even more…booby) because I might sport a little cleavage.  I don’t go out of my way.  I don’t create boobage.  But if I want to wear a v-neck tshirt, so be it.  I have to live with these bad boys, I have to suffer with the bad back and the breath-stealing running bras and a severe lack of button down shirts. I don’t have to dress like a nun, too.

BUt this product…is depressing.  Because it means that A) someone eventually expect me to buy one of these things in their uber-prudish way, and B) it really really bums me that this isn’t actually named a titkerchief.

Okay, that’s the real reason.  I wanted it to be called titkerchief.


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