Post One Hundred Eighty: Christmas

Today, I was helping the Mrs. go through the kids' Christmas presents we've been storing in the guest room. As it happened, there was one box sitting by the bed that I almost stumbled over. I started to pick it up, and my wife all of a sudden started telling me to "Look away! Look away!" Unfortunately for her, I've been reading since I was about five years old and have gotten pretty good at it.

What I stumbled over was a box containing a small helium tank that is apparently to be used to fill balloons (which are "Not Included"!). Per my wife, this is a gift from my brother- and sister-in-law.

A helium balloon tank. What fucking fresh hell is this?

I have no idea what they are thinking. I do not think I've ever exhibited any signs of having a balloon fetish, or otherwise demonstrated myself to be a big fan of balloons. As a matter of fact, I'm the one who inevitably destroys the kids' balloons because I get tired of them floating around after being tied to a chair and forgotten.

I am willing to bet my in-laws got me some damn remote control shark balloon that you can find in the Brookstone or "What on Earth" catalog. Great, something that I'll play with once (maybe), then put away and constantly have to move out of the way as I dig through whatever closet it inevitably gets pushed to the back of.

I am getting a bad feeling about my Christmas. My wife has said she had some "great ideas" for my gifts; given the fact that I didn't have a list prepared, I have no idea what I'm getting for Christmas. Of course, my wife will make out like a bandit. So I'm faced with the distinct possibility that my Christmas gifts are going to bite, but I'll have to put on a happy face because my wife seems very pleased with herself. And I'm not great at that.

Yeah, this comes off as a selfish post, but so what? It's my blog and I'll bitch if I want to.