'Tis Better to Give Than to Receive

DISCLAIMER:
Consider yourself warned. This post represents DiAnne at her nastiest. If you want to maintain the false image of "Sweet DiAnne," you know where the "close window" button is. Oh wait...if you're reading this blog, that means you already know the "True DiAnne" and the aforementioned warning is not needed. Carry on.

Christmas is always a pretty laid back affair at our house. The kids open their gifts and we have breakfast, but that's about the extent of the plans. We take things pretty easy and that's the way we like it.

I'd have to say there is only one thing about Christmas that consistently pisses me off. Every year, I invite my brother and my father over for the opening of the gifts. They never really have any other plans, and if they are in town, they usually show up.

Unfortunately, Dad always feels the need to bring his girlfriend over. In the past, I always tried to be nice. Sure, I didn't like her and I'm sure the feeling was mutual, but I respected my dad's choice. As the years went on, though, "nice" turned to "cordial" which has now degenerated to "bare tolerability."

While she has never been "invited" for Christmas morning, a few times Dad pretty much insisted that she be there by saying "if she doesn't come, I'm not coming." I know his flawed reasoning is that he's just trying to make sure that everyone is happy. In actuality, of course, he makes his girlfriend miserable and he makes his daughter miserable. The only one he makes happy is his ex-wife because my mom takes great pleasure in pointing out (albeit privately to me) some of the ridiculous things she does and says.

It has become tradition for her to give me a small gift, as I do for her. This year, knowing that she had Dad run to Walmart on the day the new AC/DC album (okay, kids, that's what they were called when I was young. But fine, it was the new AC/DC "CD") was released, I found a hat for her which was pretty cool. It wasn't very expensive, but I felt it was something she would like.

In return, she gave me a candle.



Sure, the lid was a little dusty because it probably sat around for awhile, but hey, that's nothing that a quick wipe with a tissue won't fix.



In looking at this picture, I know what you're thinking...well, DiAnne must have liked the candle enough to light it. Umm, no. That's the way it was when I unwrapped it.



It also came with the fuzzy dead bug sitting next to the wick.


Oh, and what is the intricate design on the inside of the lid? Well, I do believe that would be dried fly feces decorating the cap.

Yeah. Really.

So, after having my daughters write their thank you notes to Dad and his girlfriend, I thought it might be really comical to send her one and tell her how much I absolutely adore the candle and I'd request that she tell me which store she purchased it from so I could run out and get another one.

But alas, my snarkiness doesn't extend to that degree of rudeness.