please... not the summer sausage...

Today's list is supposed to be 10 things that you probably shouldn't give me as a gift.

So, I am such a happy gift receiver.  I don't really care if it's a vacuum, I just like when someone thinks enough of me to give me something, anything that they think will bring me a moment of happiness.  Getting gifts from people that aren't like, my immediate family makes me feel a little awkward.  I never feel like my reaction is right and I overthink it.  But still, it makes me happy that someone thought of me.

I suppose, like anything, there are a few exceptions to that rule.  I suppose that I can't say I like EVERYthing.  But honestly, even if I didn't like it, I'd like you, for trying.

Probably it wouldn't be a great idea if you got me a small rodent-type animal, like a gerbil, or hamster or rat or something.  I don't have a great track record with those gross little things.  My sister Jen and I had gerbils when we were younger, named Scamper and Whiskers.   I am horrified to admit that Whiskers may have eaten Scamper.  And it may or may not have been because we forgot to feed them for a little while.

Clothes are hard.  I hate everything.  I hate shopping for me and trying things on and things fitting me ugly and oh.  Clothes kind of stress me out.  Nudity stresses me out quite a bit more though, so clothes are definitely not optional.  Just probably not the best idea for a gift.

In that same genre, definitely don't get me underwear or lingerie.  For all of the reasons above.

I'd avoid giving me summer sausage.  Probably because I wouldn't  eat it, I'd just regift it to my sister Ali because she loves summer sausage.  That's what she said.  Heh.

On that same note, I think it wouldn't be the smartest idea to give me smelly cheese.  I love cheese with a good portion of my heart, don't get me wrong, just not those gross fancy smelly ones.  I have a weak stomach.

A doll.  A doll is a bad idea as a gift for me.  Because I am a grown up, that's why.

A stuffed animal, because, once again, I am a grown up.  I sleep with a 7 year old glued to my body most of the time.  There is no room for a teddy bear in my bed.  Unless his name is Ian Somerhalder.  Then I'll shove over.  Did I just say that out loud?

Some exercise equipment or a scale.  You know, unless I ask for it of course.  Otherwise, I don't exactly need any subtle hints that you think I am a fatass.  Trust me, I am already aware of the status of my ass.  Very aware.

A football.  Because you know, I don't really play that game.

And finally, cleaning supplies.  Oh, I'll take a vacuum, just don't give me Pledge or laundry detergent or something similar.  Because you know, I can buy that myself, and there is nothing at all thoughtful about that.

So there you have it.