Is that subtle enough for you? I am quite particular about presents. There’s stuff I like to receive – diamond shoes, unicorns, inflatable penguins – and stuff I DON’T like to receive. And missus Pinkoddy has very kindly tagged me in her meme to tell y’all what I DON’T want. So you can TAKE NOTE and ACT ACCORDINGLY. Hint hint.
I have to tell you about myself. *waves* Hi! I am a SAHM to one Moo. I am 33 and have a kick-ass arse, brown hair and brown eyes, and I also have skin. Which is handy. Oh! I also have hands.
This is what I DON’T want for Christmas…
Candles. CANDLES. What a fecking LAZY present. Who ACTUALLY has candles, lit, in their house, ever? When I was a teen I went through a slight, er, flame-happy phase, and had candles, but that was to practise my pyrokinesis more than anything (I wasn’t very good at it, in case you’re wondering). But now, it’s like, hey, electricity is pretty cool, let’s use it! We don’t need FIRELIGHT to see stuff any more. And they’re not relaxing or soothing, due to the CONSTANT FIRE HAZARD. Don’t get me started on scented candles, the bastards. They smell of nowt but hot wax. HOT WAX. Basically, you just paid good money for HOT WAX. Therefore I come to the conclusion that if you buy me a candle as a present, you either don’t know me, or, you really really don’t like me.
OK – right – practical underwear, that is to say, big pants and tights and thermal vests – FINE. That is stuff I can wear, innit. I am talking about sexy-time underwear. Ne’er fear – Hub has learnt his lesson – he doesn’t need to be told. I am telling YOU. Y’know, just in case. DO NOT BUY ME SEXY-TIME UNDERWEAR. I won’t wear it. For sexy-time or else. So take all your red, scratchy, lacy, crotchless, spangled, strappy, fluffy, see-through, man-made fibred nonsense and fling it back into Ann Summers. That’s a big NO NO. I will not wear it, d’y'hear? But – BUT – if you insist – and I really don’t think you should – AT LEAST GET THE FECKING SIZE RIGHT.
Yeah. Yeah – daft, innit. Most women would love jewellery for Christmas. Not me. I am not most women. The only way you’d get to buy me jewellery is if I was standing in a jeweller’s and pointed at something and said, ‘Buy me that one.’ I would have the decency to act all surprised, natch: ‘Oh! How did you know? You have such good taste! Are you psychic? Either that or some sort of sorcerer! I love my unicorn horn ring studded with diamonds! Thank you!’ See? What a consummate actress I am.
Now if by this point you are feeling really quite sorry for Hub, you’d be right. I am hard work, high maintenance and a royal pain in the (kick-ass) arse.
But, if you’re thinking, ‘Yeah, I’d just get her a book token’ then… *high five*
What do YOU really not want for Christmas? If you get the burning urge (and it isn’t cystitis) then consider yo’self tagged.
Now, post all my presents to the following address…