This morning, I stepped out of the house to find a gift basket from a neighbor:
How did I know this was from a neighbor? Because he left his calling card, literally!---actually, he left an entire BOX of business cards in this pile, in addition to Christmas cards (with accompanying envelopes bearing his address) from his Maw in Indiana. I do not recognize this person's name, but apparently he lives in a building a block away. I wonder how, and why, he decided to walk this box to my residence. Did he think I needed a box of used manilla folders, personal correspondence, dirty socks and underwear, bootleg CDs, and his business cards? My birthday is coming up, but how did this stranger know?!
I don't mean to be ungrateful, but I did not really like what he picked out for me. So, I did what any decent person would do: I put it all in a bag for him, taped his address to the top, and delivered it to his front door.
Hey, I don't want to be an unappreciative gift receiver, but I was a bit insulted by the tastelessness of his gift. I mean, who wants to receive underwear, much less DIRTY underwear, from a STRANGER? (Okay, probably a lot of perverts would pay good money for a stranger's used underthings, but I'm not one of them!!! .... which goes to show the importance of actually getting to know someone before picking out a gift for them. I mean really!)
I was also annoyed with this Dirty Santa because his business cards scattered over the sidewalk and curb, and my obese self had to get down on hands and knees to pick them up from the fecal-ful tree pit and even from under a parked car.
See that tube with the green label? Tis 'roid cream. Presumably this was another scattered item from the gift pile. This is the only part of the gift basket that may come in use, as the whole experience proved to be an enormous pain in my ass!!
