Seven of the worst Christmas gifts ever

1. Michael Jackson cologne. Not only do I heed the distinct difference between cologne and perfume, but if I did want to smell like a dude, it would not be MJ (pre or post death). Adding to the insult was the fact that this gift was from the dollar store, and it turned out I was acutely allergic to it, so I spent the rest of Christmas morning itching my head-to-toe hives with red weeping eyes.
2. Pope on a rope. Because a soap on a rope isn’t useless enough, let’s put a religious figurehead on it, too. So I can scrub my naked flesh with the bishop of Rome’s face. On the Savior’s birthday. No thanks, I’d prefer not to explain that one to St. Peter.
3. Several framed crumbling leaves. My definition of artwork is open and expansive, but you can’t just rake your lawn, slap it in a plastic-front frame and expect me to hang it above the couch. Moreover, this gift still contained its price tag. I’m not sure what is more offensive: the fact that they only spent $7 on me, or that they spent 7 whole dollars on Dumpster filler.
4. Former Colorado politician Stan Matsunaka’s head on a can of tomatoes. Wait, what? Yeah. You heard me. This exists, and this was given to me.
5. “Make IT Happen” key chains. Inspirational? Not exactly. Because I know your computer-based job distributed these suckers for free with their holiday cards. How do I know this? Because you gave one to everyone in my family, and it had your company’s logo on the back.
6. One single unicorn tile, slightly chipped. Do you expect me to tear out all of the tile in my bathroom to insert this mismatched accent piece? It’s not a gift if it comes attached to work. Or is busted. Or has a unicorn on it and it’s not 1986 and I’m not 10.
7. A stack of thank-you cards. Um, thanks? What’s the etiquette here? If I don’t thank you, you’ll know I had the resources to. But wouldn’t that be regifting? Do I have to send a different card back? And anyway, is this some kind of passive-aggressive hint? If so, I’m not so sure I’m thankful. Although I do need them. So it’s kind of cool. So why do I feel like crying a little?

[signoff icon=”icon-link”]ORIGINAL POST: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/aimee-heckel/behold-the-worst-christma_b_6320036.html[/signoff]