How To Give The Perfect Gift

I'm not gonna sugar coat it: I judge people who give bad gifts.

Yes, this goes entirely against the spirit of the holiday season, and maybe I'm just an exceptional Kris Kringle (hair toss), but I really don't understand people who wrap up a copy of WINE for Dummies, laugh when you open it while explaining, "Everyone knows Skylar can't say NO to MERLOT" (for the thousandth time, I like Cabernet Sauvignon, you thoughtless piece of trash), and sit back giving themselves a pat on the back for half-assing it through yet another birthday party for Jesus.

This is avoidable. You don't have to be the dud who everyone prays doesn't pick them for Secret Santa/Mysterious Maccabi! A few easy tips are all that stand between you and a genuine, "Wow! Thank you so much!" or this:

Step 1: Get your head out of your own ass - The holidays are not the time to change someone; we reserve that for 30th birthdays, interventions, and serious relationships. Giving a friend a box set of Josh Groban's best duets because you yourself are a Grobanite is not a gift, it's sadism with a bow on top. If you attend aerial yoga four nights a weeks and think everyone should attend aerial yoga four nights a week and cornered your petrified sister-in-law after dinner to discuss the overwhelming calmness brought on by swaying savasana, you're just being a holly jolly jackass when everyone unwraps silk hammocks and nods at you with thinly-veiled contempt.

Step 2: Listen, Linda - I am an elephant--I forget nothing. I still remember a guy I was seeing in 2010 mentioning that when he got home from school as a kid, his mom would make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on rye while he watched Captain Planet. I literally have zero use for this information now, but it's stuck in there for life. The key to being an excellent gift-giver is not to rely on what the recipient mentions they want between November 29 and January 1; it's reaching all the way back to May when they talked about how much they loved boudin sausage on their recent visit to New Orleans and signing them up for a Cajun cooking class. How can you not get the warm and fuzzies from knowing you gave the perfect gift they didn't even know they wanted?

Step 3: Stand and Deliver - The above being said, if a loved one asks for something specific, don't go nuts trying to outdo yourself when there wasn't even a competition. Your cousin wants a book on Moroccan culture? Don't buy her a plane ticket to Marrakesh, just give her the freaking book. Most people, myself included, feel like this is the one time of year they can express their want for something without coming off like Veruca Salt; don't make me feel even more unnecessarily guilty by going completely overboard with my simple, "if it's not too much trouble" request.

Step 4: Change it up - We get it, your dad is a Packers fan. How many DVD's can he possibly watch highlighting their 1967 season? How much Green Bay barware can he really drink out of? What is the man going to do with a chunk of grass from Lambeau Field?! You have to realize when enough is enough. While he may be thrilled with end zone seats to the Packers vs. Bears game (duh), if you give him a Fat Head of Jerry Kramer - SURPRISE! - you're paying off your own student loans from now on, fucker.

Step 5: Enjoy it - If you view holiday shopping as a chore, you're 99% of what's wrong with the world (the other 1%: the fact that American Idol is still on the air. What the hell are we even doing). I'd venture to guess that the children of the middle-aged mom I witnessed viciously scream at a Foot Locker employee over the lack of color choices for Nike Hyperdunks would rather just receive a plain old basketball and call it a year. If you're getting bent out of shape over a 20%-off coupon, you need to shred your credit cards and check yourself. Hard. This season is supposed to be fun; don't ruin it for the rest of us just because you didn't manage to snag the last Nerf N-Strike Elite Nerf Cam ECS-12 Blaster. The BOOMco. Rapid Madness Blaster will suffice.

 

When Calories Don't Count

It is snowing something fierce outside. I'm cold in 50 degree weather, so you can imagine the physical and emotional turmoil I'm currently going through. Immediately upon walking through the door after getting off work early (heyooo), I headed to the fridge for my standard bowl of mixed berries and maybe string cheese.

Then I looked outside.

Then back at the fridge. Then outside. Fridge. Outside. Down at my nails (just did them last night, they look fab). Back at the fridge.

This is not mixed berry weather.

Sometimes, you just need a carb or two. When your Northern Virginia suburb has transformed into the Yukon, you need a carb or two million. Meatball subs, chocolate chip cookies, nachos; it's like Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory except I'm Augustus Gloop and Veruca Salt all rolled into one: I want to eat everything, and I want it now.

 As far as I'm concerned, calories shouldn't exist when it's a winter wonderland outside. I don't have the ability to hibernate, so a fatty food coma is as close as I can get and I plan to milk that for all it's worth. There are other situations in which calories don't count, and though they are all unique in their own right, each situation typically centers around a lack of makeup and a pronounced couch cushion butt imprint.

The Holiday Season - If you're updating MyFitnessPal and sneaking in a few crunches between Christmas dinner and dessert, you're a pa-rum-pa-pum prick. You know who likes that guy? Not Santa. Your bubbe didn't slave over a brisket for three hours just to hear you complain about the fat content, and if you seriously suggest ways in which to make the cheese blintzes "clean," don't bother returning from your 10-mile run tomorrow morning. If two months out of the year have earned the reputation for being the most calorie-dense, you should treat the season with the utmost respect and stuff your face accordingly.

First Date - Certain foods are not safe First Date foods. Spaghetti is an obvious no-go (stick to shaped pasta, like penne or bowties). Ironically, in an effort to be dainty and skinny, salad is also a terrible choice. You look like a stegosaurus the second one of those spinach leaves goes rogue and tries to escape from the corner of your mouth, leaving you to chase after it with your tongue and/or fork in a way that is anything but incognito. Just let the girly thing go. If your date wants to spend more time with you and linger over a Red Velvet Pizookie, but you're afraid of the extra 150 calories, you A) need to pull the stick out of your butt and B) should stab the first spoon in that baby and show him/her how it's done. You can save tofu for the third date when they realize how boring you are--keep the dream alive for at least one night.

"Wahhh I should've just ordered the burger."

Your Birthday - You can cry if you want to and everyone has to do what you say while giving you presents for it, why wouldn't you be allowed to eat whatever your heart desired? You know why Pillsbury doesn't make Diet Funfetti cake mix? Because Poppin Fresh is an adorable dough boy, not a gluten-free monster. Restaurants actually encourage the surplus of calories on this fantastic day: Arby's gives you a free 12-oz. milkshake, Denny's gives you a free Grand Slam breakfast, and Waffle House gives you a free waffle. A free. Waffle. Why would you pass that up? Because you want "abs"? You can get abs on Arbor Day, loser. Vixen's is waiting, go get you a free lap dance.

Getting Dumped - Following a particularly bad breakup, I stayed in bed for 15 hours a day for a week straight (drama drama drama). Luckily, I locked myself in my apartment and wouldn't let anyone in to see the gremlin I had become, which led to a pleasant absence of expectation and general hygiene. It also led to an obscene amount of pancakes. Effort was not the name of the game at this point in time, and considering I couldn't let my regular Jimmy John's guy see me this way, I had to fend for myself. Pancake batter is easy, and you can make a batch big enough to last you four days in just as many minutes. In that week I probably ate close to 30 pancakes, occasionally throwing an apple or banana into the mix so I didn't get Single Girl Scurvy. I finally snapped out of it and ventured out into society for some exercise and Vitamin D, an act really only fueled by my own self-disgust and the fact that I ran out of flour.

 Girls' Night - A girl who runs a six-minute mile and reads fitspo blogs by day is the same girl who, later on, demolishes the cookie dough dip before anyone else has a chance to try it. Girls' Night is about wine, gossiping about how Christina's new boyfriend is definitely a Bar Dad, and, of course, eating obscene amounts of junk food. No I will not judge you for grabbing Rice Krispie Treats two at a time, because I'm currently double fisting taquitos and sugar cookies. Cheers, sister. Will significant time be spent commenting on how fat we feel and how we shouldn't be eating this? You betcha. But if Brooke shows up with a tub of hummus and a platter of celery one more time I swear to God I'm force feeding her Kalteen bars in her sleep.

And with that, Puking Patty was eliminated from the group text

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