Look what I got the Little Lady for Mother’s Day!

(And by “Little Lady” I mean Bitch Kitty because she tracks her damn Little Lady litter all over the basement family room and I’m too lazy to haul the vacuum cleaner down and back up the stairs so we now have a downstairs vacuum cleaner and I’m quite frankly all but giddy about it.)

It’s my 15th Cedar Rapids Follies!

We just had an increments-of-five-years-anniversary-celebrating cast meeting before our final show and I got a nice card and a packet of granulated silica gel. It was in with a star-shaped metal box engraved with my name. Which is nice too.

Now the house lights have dimmed, the audience has hushed, the curtain speech is underway and our final first downbeat is in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

Dudewrapping

My brother-in-law cares about attractive, appropriate Christmas wrap even less than I do—and that’s saying something—so I put his gift in a reused gift bag I found that’s decorated in a tool motif.

My dad cares even less about attractive, appropriate Christmas wrap than my brother-in-law and me—plus he’s legally blind—so I put HIS gift in a reused gift bag I found that’s decorated in Easter eggs. Don’t tell.

On a totally unrelated note ...

I’ve received three copies of this book over the years, if anyone would like to receive one as a gift.

Another Gay Uncles’ Day is in the books

And don’t think I didn’t notice nobody got me Cher tickets and a gift card for a mall pedicure.

This all sounds delightfully practical and wonderfully logical, except if it lasts a lifetime why does it have only a five-year guarantee?

It’s the thought that ... oh, I don’t care

Of the many things I catastrophically suck at — remembering names, canceling no-longer-needed insurance policies, winning over Bitch Kitty outside the context of her pathological desperation for cat treats — wrapping presents is the one I care the least about.

To wit (to Mom, actually): I just (poorly) (because I don’t care) wrapped this gift using paper saved from a long-ago gift (because I’m responsible!) only to notice after I was done that the long-ago gift label was now wrapping awkwardly around the edge (because I’m not observant!) (because I don’t care!) of this new gift, so I did what any other not-caring person would do in this situation: I scribbled over the old gift label with a red sharpie and then slapped a new gift label over the part of the old label that was still on the top part of the new gift. Then, since the new label was now in a place that would make no sense to put a bow (and because I don’t care!), I just found a scrap of knotted elastic, stretched it (not even remotely artfully) around the box and rushed back to watching car-crash videos in click-trap perpetuity on YouTube.

But that’s the price my dad pays for having me wrap his presents for him because he’s blind. Symbiotically, because he’s blind he has no way of knowing (or caring!) how ugly it is. (And I don’t care!)

#ElfShelfies