The Wife: 'Honey, would you like a hand-cranked ice cream maker?'
Me: 'No way. They are too much like hard work and I think the ice-cream kinda sucks. I'd rather have Streets make my ice-cream thanks.
Two weeks later.
The Wife: 'Honey would like a hand-cranked ice cream maker for your birthday?'
Me: 'No. I already told you that.'
I get: A hand-cranked ice-cream maker - for about $200. I returned it.
A few years ago, I got some shorts and a belt. I think you probably know the type of shorts I got? The longish, shortish ones that even the mail man doesn't wear because none of his mail man friends in their dorky shorts would stop laughing at him. Well, that's what I got. The laughing. From my wife. She can't stop. Finally she recovers her breath and agrees to return them at my insistence. She actually takes them back the same day when I'm at work. So when I get home I ask where my birthday present is, and she gives me the belt. Yep. That's it. For my birthday I got a belt.
My personal favorite.
Just what the guys at work were all saying they wanted for their birthdays.
For a 21st birthday part I took a day off work to find the best present I could. Actually, I took the day off work, because, hey that's what sickies are for and the weather was too nice to stay inside in the office all day. So I went to the beach. A fun day, filled with sun, surf, sand (actually the sand wasn't all that fun, I hate sand, it gets everywhere, in your shoes, your shirt, your sandwiches). Lots of beautiful people on the beach, body-surfing waves, getting nice and hot and then I recall I am yet to buy the present for the birthday girl.
Did I mention the 21st was later that night. No of course not, that's how absent-minded I can be sometimes.
So I take off from the beach, dragging sand into the car by the fucking bucket full (how the hell does sand get wedged in there anyway?) Taking an hour to get back into the City along Geelong Road, the small hand of the clock is slowly approaching the 12 and the big hand is approaching the 5.
Now you may be wondering why this is a problem. You see, all those years ago, shops closed at 5:00 so if I was going to get a gift I would have to pull over into one of the dorky town on the side of the road where if you're not careful you get to hear the music from Deliverance.
With time definitely not on my side, I pull into Werribee and trolling down the street I look for signs of life in any shop that's open. Pet shop! Woohoo!
So I trudge into said shop, just as owner comes across to lock the front door. He stands there with a 'yes' expression on his face as I look around his shop for something to buy said birthday girl.
A puppy? Nah, too messy.
A kitten. Nah, to cute.
A bird? Nah, too noisy.
Hey, fish! So I got two fish in one of those skanky little tanks that have no gravel, no filter and no plant life at all. One black and one white. I christened them rum and coke and thought they were the best 21st birthday present I had ever thought of. They died the next week and the tank was used to make a terrarium.
We seem to have run out of steam for this rating so here is a simple list of things you should never, ever consider giving as birthday gifts and they are all rated:
A vacuum cleaner (even if your wife says she wants a new one, she does not mean for her birthday you cheap ungrateful bastard)
A new drill (especially if she never uses it and you suddenly seem to use it all the time)
Curtains (see above)
A nice wooly jumper (sweater)
Anything to do with kitchenware's (such as food processor, blender, fork, spoon, cutlery, especially knives, damn those things can really hurt if you beloved wasn't expecting them)
A bag of potting mix
Food (unless it's expensive chocolate)
Aftershave (especially for a woman)
A new razor
Look, gimme money. Sure it may be impersonal but at least I don't have to go to the trouble of returning it, getting the money back and then going to buy myself something I actually wanted instead of those god awful Elvis and Barbara Striesand CD's I'm sure you actually 'regifted'. You bastard !