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Fuck It—Everyone’s Getting Gift Cards This Year

A National Nitwit Guest Editorial
By Nancy McMullen, Baltimore Housewife

Sorry, Tyler: No Hess Truck from Mommy this Year

Every year’s the same: I scrimp and save starting in January, and try to stretch every penny for my holiday fund while Carl and the kids blow their spare cash on pizza night and X-Box. And every year I try to get everyone the perfect gift—or in the case of the kids, several perfect gifts—and just as quickly as the wrapping paper flies off, and they mutter “awesome, thanks mom,” they’ve already moved on to the next present.

So fuck it. This year, everyone’s getting gift cards, even if it ruins our precious family traditions.

I’ve always believed that gift cards were best reserved for co-workers and distant relations; the sort of people you know well enough to guess where they shop, but not well enough to take a gamble and buy junk they already have. Take my brother-in-law Marcus, for example. He’s lived in Tampa for the past six years, and only calls around birthdays and holidays. I know the guy is a huge movie buff, but how the hell should I know if he’s already got The Bourne Ultimatum or not? Boom--$50 gift card for Best Buy, and I’m on to the next name on my list.

Well, that’s how I used to feel. But not any more. Last year, I spent close to $1200 on the kids, and what did they get me? They pooled their lavish allowances for a free facial at the local beauty parlor. That’s it. No new slippers, no John Grisham novel. And don’t even get me started on Carl…I have so many $99 diamond pendants that my jewelry box is stuffed tighter than a Thanksgiving turkey.

So fuck Carl, fuck the kids, and fuck you if you think I’m wasting another holiday season driving to the mall everyday after work like some goddamn slave. This year I’m buying a shoebox full of gift cards, so maybe the McMullens can get off their lazy asses and do their own shopping for once.

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