8 days of great

As the gift-giving season is upon us I (once again) find myself reflecting on the year gone by. Was I good girl (not in particular)? Do I deserve any presents (probably not)? Do I still expect them (hell yes!)?

See, Hanukkah means 8 days of gifts instead of just one measly day at Christmas. Though presents are not what the holiday is all about, of course. Or so we tell ourselves, anyway.

So... what am I hoping to find under the tree this year? Yes, there will be a tree. Courtesy of The Man's Mum. There'd be 3 if she'd have her way (if I had my way, there'd be no trees. And she'd be dead). And most importantly... what do I not want to find?

Dear gift-bringing Maccabean Hanukkah miracle,

Please, no onesies. I know New Look claims to sell one every 3 seconds or so, but I'm so not one of those people. Not only do I not want anything from New Look, but I definitely don't want anything I used to wear on regular basis 32 years ago. Really. I understand they might be a huge hit over in UK, but let's not forget- there's something profoundly wrong with those people and their desire to play adult babies and get spanked by school mistresses. While I totally appreciate comfort in my sleepwear, I want it in classy way. Classy, crotchless, see-through, nipple tassled way.

Nothing from the household-item family either. And in case you're a man, let me elaborate this for you. That means no vacuums, pans, pots, kettles, thermometers, blenders, toaster ovens or fully automated, electric garlic presses with stainless steel finish and touch screen control panel.  And to make sure you're really getting the point: not even if they come from Alessi.

Nothing that in any way corresponds to the following descriptions:

funny, just a little something silly, novelty, joke, kitsch. There's surprisingly little fun about a monkey- key fob that opens up to a glow in the dark, banana-shaped shopping bag. 

While I fancy myself a bit of a humanitarian angel with a huge heart of gold and would, under normal circumstances be delighted for any donations to charity, this year's financial hardships mean I just might have grown out of that one (and my skinny jeans). Any spare cash will find a loving, welcoming home on my bank account. No need to ship it to Africa. I mean, they don't even take euros there. I on the other hand do. And dollars. And pounds. And Norwegian crowns. 

In the name of greater good, I'd also appreciate ban on all sorts of living organisms. Such as plants, puppies, kittens, tarantulas, adopted kids in countries I can't even pronounce and yeast infections. 

So, I trust I've made myself clear. I'll go light some candles, fry some latkes and focus on what the festival is all about: marvel at the oil that never ran out. Bet the Saudis are really jealous of that one!