The holidays would be much less stressful if we were honest with each other and got specific with our responses to this question:
What do you want for <holiday>?
Possibly the most dreaded question in modern American life after “What do you want for dinner?” and “Does this make me look fat?” because there’s no good way to answer. If you answer truthfully (“I want a TARDIS mini-fridge for my Doctor Who viewing parties for one!“), you’re a presumptuous jerk who doesn’t understand the true meaning of gift giving and probably says “Happy Holidays”, you effing socialist.
If you lie, (“I don’t want anything. I’m just happy to have you in my life!”), you’ve opened the door to getting regifted an ugly sweater or candlesticks or another bottle of Vanilla Fields to go with seven bottles you have stashed in the bathroom from previous years.
See, wish lists aren’t merely your kid’s terrorist demands the dreams of children hoping their niceness will be rewarded with goods and services. They should be an integral part of keeping us sane during this commercial orgy on which we hang so much pride.
So, screw “gift guides”. We’re doing wish lists this year.
Here are some t-shirts to consider for yours.
Mermaid fighting an octopus. What’s not to love?
Before Downton Abbey, you couldn’t tell me that cocktails and Masterpiece Theater would make a fun evening.
What would Nietzsche do?
I bought this t-shirt five years ago, but have worn and washed it so many times that it doesn’t quite fit in the shoulders anymore. Or the boobs. Or around the middle. John says it’s just my body after 35 and not to freak out. I’m still pointing fingers at the dryer for shrinking my t-shirt.
Who doesn’t want Brian Blessed’s leather briefs, Muppet mouth, and chafing thighs on their chest?
I found Pushing Daisies free on Amazon Prime Instant Video a couple weeks ago and have been nostalgic for the Pie Maker, Charlotte Charles, and Olive Snook ever since. Damn, I miss that show.
Related Stuff:
Lisa Fary's earliest influences are Princess Leia, Rainbow Bright, Astronaut Barbie, and her 6th grade teacher, Ms. Palmer. She's angry that it's 2011 and she still doesn't have a hovercraft, but will accept a jetpack as consolation. That jetpack had better be pink with a rhinestone monogram. 
