holiday shopping sucks

Christmas shopping has always been hard for me. I can never find the “perfect” gift. And this year I’m just completely freakin’ clueless. My family is hard enough to shop for. Mom might be clothes. Dad will probably be electronics. Sister will be happy with anything high-end, which is great for ideas, bad for the wallet. And now I have to add the boyfriend to the list.

So in my search for “perfect” gifts – I thought I would share a few failures. Or some that bomb so hard, they are brilliant. Enjoy!

Breakfast of the Month Club: I’ve heard of fruit and beer – but breakfast is wonderful. Nothing says love like flapjacks. Better than the Beef Jerky of the Month Club. And I’m not kidding - there is such a thing.

Adam and Eve: Add your faces to a picture of Adam and Eve. That sounds romantic. Post it in the living room. But do you really want your parents imagining you and your partner only in a fig leaf?

365 Warm Wishes: It’s a jar filled with little pieces of paper saying things about love, hope and happiness. Awwwwwwww. It’s completely adorable, right? And after your done reading all those messages, you can puke in the jar. It only costs you $30.

Slanket: It’s not an endangered species. It’s a blanket with SLEEVES. You would have to be an evil genius to come up with this. It looks like a fuzzy mu-mu. In light blue. I always complain about being cold, but I’d rather freeze than wear this thing.

Stuffed STD's: STD's shouldn't be cute - it's just wrong.

left field? more like outta the ballpark

A little more than a year ago I broke up with my boyfriend of two years. Don’t cry for me Argentina – you too Paraguay. So in between the break up and the meet up with my current (wonderful) boyfriend, it’s safe to say I “dabbled” in the dating world.

I went on one date with this guy – we’ll call him Jess (because that’s his name) – and he never called me after that one date. It was an okay date – walk around Hoboken in the freezing cold, grab a milkshake, talk about life’s randomness. He impressed me by bringing me flowers and a mini stapler (I was really special). You know, what 14 year-olds dream of for a first date. Without the copious amounts of giggling. At the end of the night we parted with an awkward hug and that was basically the last I heard from him.

That is, until Thursday. He decided to send me an email apologizing for never calling me – and calling himself a jerk. He detailed a list of personal family problems for excuses – and then explains that those aren’t excuses and he should have called me. (To any guys out there – don’t tell a girl your entire life story and then say “but I still had time – I could have called you.” That will just piss us off further. I promise.) He then says, several times, that his lack of communication has bothered him for months and he planned on emailing me much sooner.

And he should have – because I could have reassured him that I didn’t care. Did he think that our one date was groundbreaking, and by him not calling I would throw myself into a deep well of depression? Or that I was sitting at my computer, constantly hitting the refresh button, waiting anxiously for another email? Wondering, “Why didn’t he call? WHAT DID I DO WRONG?!”

Eh. I lived. And what do you even write back to that? “Yeah, um, sorry but – I kind of moved on. Months ago. Pretty much two days later. Sorry you wasted months toiling over whether or not to email me. You shouldn’t worry about stuff like that. Have a great life!”

The only time I remembered him was when that damn stapler broke. I miss that stapler.

sweet, sweet music

I learn a lot from my little sister - like how my style is outdated.

Last month my sister let me in on a site called Pandora. I'm sure the whole world knows about it. But for the people who are behind the curve (like yours truly) - you pick your favorite artists and Pandora links you with similar music. I am FREAKIN' in love.

Pandora is like having a wonderful, emotional boyfriend that makes you mix-tapes of music that remind him of you - and then names them after experiences you have together. Like compiling Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat and naming it "Eating Cotton Candy."

My friends don't listen to my "kind" of music - which can be best described as mellow, weepy folk lite. So I'm glad Pandora can recommend more music that makes me want to soak in a warm tub surrounded by lavender candles.

aliens!

John Hodgman doesn’t just play a PC on TV! Hodgman can spin a yarn. Well, this video is more of a blanket. This video is hilarious if you like dry humor and geeks. Takes about 4:20 to mention New Jersey – but I think Hodgman misses the real aliens at the shore.

can i add life experience to my resume?

Help wanted pages always depress me. Not that it takes very long anymore – the pages aren’t enough to line a birdcage. What always bothers me is that most jobs ask for years of experience.

Ten years experience? I would have been 12 and pining away for Kevin from the Backstreet Boys – I always had a thing for square jaws.

Seven years experience? Yeah – the 15 year-old me would be rushing through high school halls lined with yellow lockers. Probably rushing to finish homework I had forgotten to do the night before because I was painting my nails blue and arguing with my first “real” boyfriend. And by “real” I mean I didn’t giggle and run away when I saw him.

Five years experience? Does booking hair and make-up from D.C. count as scheduling? What about freaking that you won’t get to Jersey before prom because you are stuck at a Model United Nations conference during a massive snow storm – crisis experience?

Three years experience? Pharmacy technician doesn’t work well on a journalism resume. But you try asking a crazy lady about her medical insurance while screaming at her devilish children. That prepared me for asking questions, listening and typing as fast as humanly possible – before those kids knocked down another Hallmark display.

All I have is one year of experience – an “internship,” which is a fun way for newsrooms to work you to the bone and pay you next to nothing. I loved every minute of it – calling strangers, setting up interviews, getting to the heart of things, taking pictures, pushing toward a deadline, looking over pages.

But it’s only a year. Maybe I can add that I know all the words to the “Larger than Life” to my resume. I’m sure that will give me some bonus points.

invading the personal bubble for journalism

I don’t pretend to know everything about relationships. But spending every waking moment no more than 15 feet away from your spouse and living in each other’s consciousness (whatever the hell that really means) seems like the quickest way to a divorce.

I love this video for so many reasons. I think these two are hilarious without trying to be, like the breakfast scene:

You took all the cinnamon sugar!

Well, go get some more. I have a child in my lap

First of all, you have diabetic.

(Which grammatically doesn’t make sense, but I’m pretty sure I quoted that correctly.)

I give them credit for going through the day without killing each other. And after 11 years of marriage they still learned things about one another – like how a brisk Fresca is essential in the morning.

But am I the only one who notices the horrendously large bunny statue in their home? That thing is scary!

why not an even 20...

Everyone has their guilty pleasures. Men. Chocolate. Men drenched in chocolate...but I digress.

My guilty pleasure is watching the Duggars. The parents believe in quiverfull - accepting any children that God bestows on them. This family in Arkansas has 17 children. Let me repeat: 17 children. With another bun in the God-lovin' oven.

And I'm not the only one who loves watching these crazy, home-schooling, prayer-reading, psalm-singing bunch. TV crews followed this family building their own house. There are few things scarier than a six-year-old wielding an electric saw talking about being a missionary when he grows up.

Now the latest saga is that Josh, the oldest Duggar boy, just got hitched at the ripe, old age of 20. The proposal was picturesque at a restaurant called Gator Landing, complete with plastic alligators dressed in sombreros. (I wish I was kidding.) After the proposal comes the dating. Yup - these two never dated before he popped the question, but through prayer Josh decided this was the right move. (Again, wish I was kidding.)

The scene was so touching - even though there wasn't that much bodily contact. Josh and his fiance decided that they can only hug or hold hands - the first kiss would be on the wedding day. No kissing? At all? They were even followed by someone, just in case they felt the impulse to lock lips. This is completely foreign to me - in fifth grade your popularity was ranked by how many boys you could kiss in the closet during the Bill Nye the Science Guy tape. (Good think I liked science a lot more than boys at that point.)

I'm torn between admiring their restraint to laughing hysterically imagining how awkward their first smooch was. I hope chapstick was mentioned in one of those hymns.