Secret Santa
Ah, the joy of giving anonymously. Squeal as your boss is given a porn mag for christmas. Out your colleagues with a carefully chosen Gaydar Radio compilation album, but best of all, keep quiet about picking your own name out of the hat and buy yourself something really, really expensive.
What have you given to people you hate?
( , Fri 15 Dec 2006, 10:03)
Ah, the joy of giving anonymously. Squeal as your boss is given a porn mag for christmas. Out your colleagues with a carefully chosen Gaydar Radio compilation album, but best of all, keep quiet about picking your own name out of the hat and buy yourself something really, really expensive.
What have you given to people you hate?
( , Fri 15 Dec 2006, 10:03)
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We don't do the Secret Santa thing anymore
One year, me, my two brothers and my stepmum all bought gifts and put them in a pile.
The rules are: the person who picks the highest scrabble piece gets to pick first. After that you go around to the left and either take a chance on a wrapped pressie from the pile or steal something someone has already opened.
You can just tell this was going to go badly...
Well, had we all bought pressies of an equal beauty and value, it might have been okay. However, the designer handblown spice rack I bought went to my stepmum in the end. She had put in a bizarre, dollar store, bird house, and my poor brother went home with it. He had put in a gorgeous handpainted Turkey platter.
Everyone hated eachother and our happy Christmassy mood was instantly destroyed as we all felt that we had been cheated and old wounds were re-opened and thoroughly salted.
I never saw the bloody spice rack again, and am certain this has been re-gifted by my thrifty (read tight) step mum.
Bah humbag. Now I buy her tea bags and save the nice gifts for my bros.
( , Fri 15 Dec 2006, 14:49, Reply)
One year, me, my two brothers and my stepmum all bought gifts and put them in a pile.
The rules are: the person who picks the highest scrabble piece gets to pick first. After that you go around to the left and either take a chance on a wrapped pressie from the pile or steal something someone has already opened.
You can just tell this was going to go badly...
Well, had we all bought pressies of an equal beauty and value, it might have been okay. However, the designer handblown spice rack I bought went to my stepmum in the end. She had put in a bizarre, dollar store, bird house, and my poor brother went home with it. He had put in a gorgeous handpainted Turkey platter.
Everyone hated eachother and our happy Christmassy mood was instantly destroyed as we all felt that we had been cheated and old wounds were re-opened and thoroughly salted.
I never saw the bloody spice rack again, and am certain this has been re-gifted by my thrifty (read tight) step mum.
Bah humbag. Now I buy her tea bags and save the nice gifts for my bros.
( , Fri 15 Dec 2006, 14:49, Reply)
« Go Back