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Was it accompanied by a signed copy of his hit single "Don't It Make Ya Feel Good"? That would have been aces.
My other half gave me a wooden spring type rat trap, like they use in Tom and Jerry cartoons a couple of months after we met. It may have been on Valentine's Day, I can't quite remember. It hung on the wall of our bedroom for many years. It was better than chocolates at any rate
XXX D.O.
-------------------- Don't do anything stupid until I get back. Posts: 329
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A decade ago, when I was going out with Vogon Pointless, she went on some horse riding holiday in Exter and brought me back a part of a sheep's skull that she found lying on the ground. I think I've still got that somewhere.
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Gifts from a weird source or weird gifts...
The only gift that seems appropriate in either category was recieved for my birthday this year.
A friend of my elder brothers (who I think has a bit of a sweet spot for me) completely unexpectedly handed over a small paper bag on my birthday.
Inside was a silver necklace, a thick silver chain, with smaller chains hanging off with massive blue flowers dangling from them.
Its hard to give it a fitting description; which gets across how garish this necklace actually is...
It was a lovely thought as it was completely unexpected but I havent worn it once and bless him he always asks if I wear it ...
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Someone I had been sort of seeing, casual-like, brought me a stuffed (?) and mounted black scorpion from Thailand. It was huge and had bristly hairs on its legs, which I found strangely fascinating.
I think it was meant to signify that I was a hard bitch of some description. Possibly that I was a Scorpio (I'm not).
The other half finally persuaded me to throw it out during our last move. I can't remember whether it went to landfill or Oxfam. I like to think the latter and that some goth kid might buy it as a Christmas pressie....
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Oh man! You threw it out! I would have loved that. And, obviously, if you were goingto hand over a present to anyone on TMO, it would definitely be me, I reckon.
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Technically, I allowed my girlfriend to throw it out. That is my vegetarian girlfriend of five years, who had patiently moved, dusted and repacked the dead thing bought for me as a semi-insult by someone I had once shagged but didn't like that much anyway.
But yeah, sorry, you could've had it Thorn.
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We should have a swap-shop at some point where we offer up all our unwanted 'junk' to either the highest bidder or whoever wants it and is willing to pay the postage.
OJ, did your cat never have a chew on the dead thing ? I can only imagine that if I bought something dead and stuffed that one of our cats would almost certainly try and eat it.
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When I was twelve and on the verge of trying desperately to hold down an air of coolness for myself, I received a parcel from my Mother, which was filled with some presents for christmas. They were labelled but mostly in tiny writing so you had to take the presents out and search for the name to find out which presents were yours. Except the twist within was that my Mother really didn't know what a twelve year old and a fourteen year old likes so we had a box filled with some pretty poor guesswork. Looking back, we should have been grateful for anything but our actions were those of teenagers. The present that sticks in my mind mostly was The Jumper. Today you'll find out why.
We had already received a couple of great choice 'presents' already. I recall a pair of sport socks. The ones that stop just below your ankle. These were unmarked, But my Brother had kindly donated them to me, seeing as it was winter and all. But anyway, The Jumper. I know you all want to hear so much about The Jumper. As my Brother reached in slowly in anticipation his eyes went off like flashbulbs as he touched the fabric and he tortured me by presenting it collar first, up, over and out of the cardboard box and we fell about laughing. It was a blue, orange and yellow Rugby shirt, (so I guess calling it The Jumper is innacurate, but it felt like a jumper) with massive inch wide buttons down the front. It looked like something that only someone christened Muggles would wear. I'm surprised actually that there wasn't any grease paint taped inside. So then a fight erupts to see whose name is on it: 'Michael' it says in my Mothers immaculate handwriting. Of course there was nothing else for it: my Brother would then tell me to put it on and show my Dad. On pain of beatings.
If I didn't feel stupid enough my other rents, Father and Step-Mother, fall about in hysterics as I walk into the living room, lips curled down in a pitiful frown. Not just a bit of laughter mind. Proper fucking roffles. Dad on floor. Tears in eyes. After this emotionally damaging moment he picks himself up and promises we'll take a photo to send to Mum and that'll be the last of it. Wowser. I feel better already. Then out of guilt (I imagined how upset my poor Mother would be at this mockery) I kept it in the bottom draw for a couple of years afterwards. Which was a mistake because it allowed my brother the opportunity to make me wear it and parade around the room at fistpoint.
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The Scorpion was mounted behind glass, but we got rid of it immediately pre-cat I think as we got the cat when we moved into the house. Otherwise, fair point. Not that Madame is much of a hunter when she has servants to bring her food.
By the way, have I ever mentioned my cat on here or did you see her on my photo blog Darryn? Don't remember talking cat here, but I could be wrong.
eta: End of off-topicness. Chastened by NWOD's "proper" post.
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Photoblog OJ, I don't think you've mentioned your cat* here, I saw pictures of your cat* on the blog I read through the whole blog, it was quite interesting.
*be proud of me, I resisted the urge to use 'pussy'
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Oh well thank you for reading it - if reading is the right word. It's mostly pictures and has been somewhat hijacked by the cute feline.
NWOD's childhood gift trauma reminds me of an incident which still shames me. I had a tantrum on Christmas morning once because a random godparent had bought my sister a horrid little plastic doll which looked a little bit like a Sindy. I had been working on my mother for months to buy me a Sindy, mainly to satisfy peer group pressure, and she had finally caved. Then on Christmas morning, my little sis opens MY PRESENT and all hell breaks loose. As I say, I'm still ashamed. And I broke the boring Sindy within days.
My mum has provided me with some top comedy gift moments over the years. Or not. Like the year she suddenly stopped buying M&S novelty bikini knickers multipacks as stocking fillers and my sister and I literally had *no knickers for the holiday period, because we'd come home from University without any.
Or the many cat-related gifts she bought for V, because it was the one thing she knew she liked and she warmed a little too much to her theme. Cat paperweight. Cat tumblers. Cat kitchen tray. Printed cat cushion featuring a twee cottage garden and moggies so deformed it looks like a crazed pussy** taxidermist has been set loose in St Mary Mead.
You have reminded me of a similar story of my own...
When I was about 6 my Nan bought me 'real' looking baby doll and lovingly knitted a whole outfit for her in pink. I mean a whole outfit. Booties, dress, little pink cardigan with mother of pearl buttons and pink ribbon everywhere.
I was a funny child who was mainly scared by babydolls. Give me a fluffy toy and I'd be over the moon anything remotely baby like just wasnt my bag.
Here was I, a child who was always told to be honest and to always tell the truth.
I opened the package, viewed the doll and said chirpily 'thanks Nan this is great, but just so you know, I dont really like dolls...'
My mum was completely horrified apparantly...
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My Gran once gave me a full set of knitted outfits for my Action Man. Knitted Jumpers, knitted trousers, knitted shoes, knitted hats, knitted everythings.
He may not have looked as tough as some of the other boys Action men in their combats and replica Nazi uniforms but he was toasty and warm on freezing cold winter mornings, so I think we all know who had the last laugh.
-------------------- my own brother a god dam shit sucking vampire!!! you wait till mum finds out buddy!
In danger of veering off topic and going down a 'nostalgic' cul-de-sac, I would like to tell you about our overgrown back garden. As a single parent, my father could get away with not mowing the back garden, and so the local kids would want to stage an Action Man war amongst the long grass. It was great if it was organised properly: exp. *knock knock* Is Gordon allowed to play Action Man in our garden Mrs McWinnie? When there was enough of us there would be a few tanks and I had my prized possession - a helicopter (on which you could viciously thumb a trigger to make the blades rotate). Darryns tales of woolen combat has just reminded me that the Mrs McWinnie in question would stitch together outfits for her brood and so my Brother and I, united for once were not only outnumbered three to two, but were fighting Armani military might. On the older style tanks you had these missile launchers but you never got missiles with them when you bought them. We would make the youngest McWinnie ask, because he had a speech impediment which sounded like he was full of tissue. 'Mortin! We avn't got any missiles' and the product was a box of matches with the heads removed with a scalpel blade. You can see where this is going can't you? Youngest McWinnie gets shot in the eye with a matchstick and all the older siblings overeact like he's going to need an op. My dad feels guilty about providing us with destructive tools. Mrs McWinnie takes off her stilletto to clout the older siblings for being so reckless (one has to ask what kind of army shoots it's own generals anyway - sloppy work)
I know that's not a present story. It's not even much of a story. You could say he got a present. He got a matchstick in his eye. A gift of aggression from one sibling to another.
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Hah! Yeah I remember my aunt (who lives in a posh place in Spain that starts with an M but I cant remember where but she has like a 4 story villa so she's obviously loaded) got me a book for my birthday. It was something like how to spend ₤40 million when you win the lottery. If you looked carefully you could still see where someone had written 'Dear John, hoping you have a pleasant birthday. Love Denise and Monty' where the note was penned on the wrapping. John is her husband. Fucksake.
Anyway. Then I gave it to my other aunt who actually had won the lotto.
For my 18th birthday, I got a lamp. Just a common-or-garden desk lamp. I didn't have a desk. Worse, I had opened this gift in front of my friends and family and believe me, acting delighted about a fucking lamp is not easy. "You are a man now, son. We give you gift of light"
Then he left home (Me Dad) and never came back. I like to think it was out of disgrace.
Two years ago, me Dad, who is back in touch, gave me a pair of garden clippers for my birthday. Why? Because I borrowed some off a mate of his a year before. When I lived in a ground floor flat
quote:Originally posted by Darryn.R: We should have a swap-shop at some point where we offer up all our unwanted 'junk' to either the highest bidder or whoever wants it and is willing to pay the postage.
Idea for the next TMO Secret Satan?
I don't really get strange gifts that I don't ask for (there is a human torso on my amazon list). When I was ten, my uncle gave me a pair of earrings for pierced ears. I don't have pierced ears
I'm still sore about it. I'm his only niece FFS, it's not like he could confuse me with someone.
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One year when my brother was 3 years old my Great Aunt gace him a G-clamp for Christmas. He made quite a good show of clamping it onto various bits of furniture in their house, but there is only so much use a toddler cam make of a G clamp.
quote:Originally posted by Darryn.R: We should have a swap-shop at some point where we offer up all our unwanted 'junk' to either the highest bidder or whoever wants it and is willing to pay the postage.
Idea for the next TMO Secret Satan?
Yes! Except of course in practice we might all have crap to send to the same people, leading to Thorn being deluged with dead insects and me not receiving any inexplicably unwanted stylish antique scarves. For example.
Roy, your story about your dad is quite sad in its understated way. He disappears off in disgrace, then when he comes back he doesn't really know you well enough to know what you want? I think that's sad.
Don't strange gifts always hint that the giver doesn't really know us as well as they or we think they do?
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The absolute best presents I got, ever, were my Secret Satan ones from last year. Especially the chinese "Sliming Herbs" [which we took it should have been Slimming Herbs] and the jar of purple yam paste, which incidentally I am still looking for a use for. Oh, and Jhonhjo also drew me a very attractive picture of a willy, presumably in case I ever forget what they look like.
I remember for my 18th birthday, my parents gave me a box of groceries. Kind of like a very un-posh hamper. I think I still have a couple of cans of Campbell's Meatballs from that very box!!
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Sorry, as soon as the weather turns I always say to froopy "Oh! It feels like Christmas," and he looks at me like I'm mad (since I'm from Miami, October weather in New England is very much like Christmas weather to me).
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quote:Originally posted by Roy: For my 18th birthday, I got a lamp. Just a common-or-garden desk lamp. I didn't have a desk.
Are you sure it was a desk lamp all the way through? When I was about seven, my parents put one of my presents in a box which had contained a battery recharger, they claimed for ease of wrapping. I feigned childish glee for about five minutes ("Wow, thanks Mum! Thanks Dad! Hugs all round! Weeee!") and it was only when I asked if there was another present that my family suggested I might want to look inside the box. Since then, I don't think a Christmas has passed when I haven't recieved a present which is made specifically to to look rubbish.
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It would be much better if you got a present that actually was rubbish.
"Haha, thanks Gran, a shit stuffed bear. I wonder if there's anything inside it "
Then, when you've torn the handmade gift into a mass of shredded fur and foam bear guts, you can say, "Where's the fucking Playstation 3?...Why are you crying Gran?"
posted
Tonight's going to be a bit like that, isn't it? I'm about to rip open this shit, empty postless forum to reveal a host of exciting posters, brimming with quality wurdz and pictures, all ready to shout "Surprise."
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