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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Comedy · #1990971
The infomercial "things" I won't be returning after Christmas because they're not "me".
         By the time this bit of writing is published in January, I will have enjoyed yet another family gift exchange. Every Christmas, I am pleasantly surprised anew by thoughtful, practical, loving, and fun presents. I am fairly certain that I will not receive any of the following items, necessitating a discreet trade or refund.                                                                                
         Number One on my Not-in-the-realm-of-possibility list is an item known as "FUNDIES". These are underwear built for two with four legs and two rears. Apparently, " half the fun's getting in them" because they are " twice the fun". Now, I'm not above experiencing fun with my partner, but usually this involves no clothing. At the best of times, my balance and I struggle to pull on our own undies, and four openings to trip us up is beyond comprehension. I don't even want to envision four feet attempting this in tandem. This could be a new version of the game, TWISTER. In our relationship, we're always sharing: the bed, the shampoo, the computer, the truck, the kids, our feelings, the cookies. Is it too much to ask that I wear my own undergarments?                                                                                                              
         Number Two is another item of clothing for couples, a hoody built for two, known as The Sweat Heart Sweet Shirt. I must admit, I have borrowed my husband's jackets, but I usually make sure to empty the pockets first and I check that he has removed himself from it. If I'm picturing this hoody correctly, the couple sharing its space must sacrifice the use of one of their hands. Both my hubby and I are right-handed. One of us would have to make do without our dominant hand. After all these years, I'm not about to trade him for a lefty. Besides, if we were attired in a pair of Fundies and this hoody, I'd need my right hand to break my inevitable fall.                                                                                                                                  
         Number Three on this list of absurd gifts is something marketed as The Wine Rack, and it too is meant to be worn about the person--- a female person. According to the endorsements, this article will make you look two sizes bigger. Just what every woman wants- an enhancer. To the discriminating male bar patron, a wine-filled bra must seem the stuff of fantasy. Boobs and booze with no cork. I assumed this became an alternative to the water bra, but either way, the sloshing and gurgling must be a distraction. I prefer toting my drink of choice the old-fashioned way, in a bottle. Perhaps the Fundies and the Wine Rack should be sold as a set.                                                                                                                        
         Number Four is definitely a strange concept and something that I shall bravely carry-on without. Wearing my footwear in the rain, or pulling on boots, has not diminished my life force. I'm certain I do not need mini umbrellas for my shoes. Really? A good wind will invert them anyway. I also don't want to be blown off my feet. Umbrellas are persnickety gadgets that require a fine touch. If I developed a leak in my Wine Rack, should I wear one, the shoe umbrellas could save my defenceless feet from an intoxicating soak. Klutzes cannot afford to have drunken feet.                                                                                                              
         Number Five on my not-for-me list is there because it would be of no use to me. Somehow, I managed to survive raising a son without this invention. Someone, somewhere, thought the PEE-PEE TEEPEE was worthy of manufacture and distribution. A visionary who clearly has not diapered a squiggling baby. Why not create a Mommy Umbrella or a wetsuit?          
         Number Six wouldn't be gifted to me; mostly because I no longer share my home with a dog. When I did commune with canines, I did not find it necessary to dress them in outfits and this product would be impractical. I can't imagine my Shelties being impressed by REAR GEAR. Basically, it's a plug/cover to hide a dog's butt. Right... it's perfectly logical to camouflage a dog's butt with a flower or a smiley-face. Talk about creating a pooch with issues.                    
         Number Seven seems silly to me, but then again I'm not an avid golfer. I would never be tempted to amuse myself, in the bathroom, with a POTTY PUTTER. Who spends that much time in this room? For much of my life, I've lived in a one-bathroom home, and that room had to be shared. Who would appreciate hearing, " just one more minute. I'm sinking a putt"? Potty/Putty mouth could follow with, " I'm striking a hole in one. Get in there. Nooooo, I'm too short." Besides, fathers everywhere have found all manner of "things" in the plumbing. A golf ball does not need to be one of them                                                                                
         Number Eight on my list is just not for me. For those who wish to hear their friend at a noisy bar, there is the BAR BUBBLE, an actual plastic conversation dome;not to be confused with the comment bubble in a comic. Actually, this invention has already been tested in one of my favourite television shows, Get Smart. It was known as The Cone of Silence. During top-secret discussions, Agent Maxwell Smart requested its use. It always led to miscommunication and shouting.                                                                                                                        
         Number Nine is a personal hygiene/hair removal product that no one will give to me. It's not that I choose to embrace my body hair, I do want to remove it. I don't need this product known as NO NO. I like the challenge of shaving. I feel great when I've only removed the unwanted hair. Periodically, I do cut myself, but that's okay. This keeps my first aid skills sharp and it ensures that my bandages are fresh.                                                                                
         Number Ten made it on my list because I'm not a beer drinker. There is now an American beer created just for women and sold in a pink carton with the name, CHICK BEER. Pink? Will this really be a hook? It's touted, or is that tooted, as a premium light beer; lightly carbonated " because women generally aren't as fond of belching as men are". Marketing research money well-spent!! Well, I for one, don't seek an opportunity to burp or fart, but, hey, it can happen; without beer.                                                            
         Number Eleven is another new product marketed for/to woman, BIC FOR HER PENS. This writing tool has " an elegant design" and " a thin barrel to fit a woman's hand" in " an array of pastel colours". As a woman, I've managed to not only hold a pen, any pen, but I've been able to write with it. Not once did my poor feeble feminine fingers yearn for something, anything, that would better fit them. I also have many pens in many colours. I've never been in a " I couldn't-possibly-write-one-more-word-without-a-pretty-mauve-pen" frame of mind. This is insulting. My family and I tend to purchase our pens at the dollar store. A BIC FOR HER probably has a pretentious price.                                                                                          
         Number Twelve on my not-for-me list is a 7-11 SLURPEE MAKER. I'm just not a "slurpee" or a "slurper". I prefer to sip tea; while writing with my transgendered pen and snuggling in my husband's sweater. Sometimes, the simple gifts are the best.
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