Red and green tights that were actually two small for me (mind you I maxed out at 5 foot so finding clothing to small for me is like finding a Leprechaun in your sock drawer), skirts even though I stopped wearing them when I was seven, and several extra large shirts (remember I maxed out at five feet). I was encouraged to go change and show off my new attire. The shirt went past my knees (I was later told by my father I was supposed to belt it because he still thinks we live in the '80s), the skirt didn't fit my womanly hips, and the crotch of the tights was around my knees. Everyone said how "adorable" I looked. I think everyone forgot I was 17 and liked to collect skulls.

Three, simple, poetic, even legendary, but ultimately scarring and dream-shattering words:

Monkey Face Leia.

No one ever cared about what I wanted when I was young (meaning, younger than fifteen) and so they only got me lame clothes. After that, they would just give me money if they even remembered I existed. There's been a lot of times that I've just been a holiday afterthought, too, and the quality of the gift shows. Like one year, I went to an ex-girlfriend's uncle's house for the holiday for the third year in a row and the only thing I had to show for it was a twenty-dollar-bill slipped to me like I was a valet that needed to be tipped.

So that's it, I guess. I've either been forgotten, or lamely remembered, for most of my life.

Squeaky dog toys.

We did not have a dog.

Pretty much every gift i received on X-mas morning when I was ten.
I don't know if my parents were experiencing a cash-crunch on this particular year, but EVERY GIFT I received had clearly been purchased at Pic N' Save. Don't get me wrong, this has NOTHING to do with how cheap the gifts were, but if you're gonna buy someone cheap gifts, at LEAST make them cheap gifts they'll like.
I asked for GI joe figures ($2.99), but instead I got a GI Joe PUZZLE. I got not one, not two, but THREE packs of socks! And Finally, I got a six million dollar man RECORD , I'd never even seen the show! Try to hide your disappointment from your loving parents when you open THAT!

Contest Entry #2:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QKwCQWjTyI0

I AM THIS KID

I will look forward to reading about everyone's misery because I had nothing but great christmas gifts. I mean sure, there was that year my brother gave me a drawing of Wolverine that looked like it was done by a six year old (he was 18...it was tragically ludicrious - like a clown funeral) or the year I got a Star Trek fanny pack from my mom (I was 20 and the fanny pack craze ended 12 years earlier) but in that case I also got lots of other awesome gifts so it doesn't count.
I had bad birthdays so if there's any contest about that I will play.
Now, I am off to play Arkham Asylum. No joke, I am just excited to play it.

One Chanukah my mom got me a notebook. Yes, a notebook of blank lined paper. Lewis Black wasn't kidding when he said it was a back-to-school holiday.

My sister would probably say her worst gift was when our mom got us Beverly Hills 90210 dolls--and gave me the Brendan, her favorite character.

Does the "Secret Santa" stuff done at some workplaces count? If so, then THIS year has been THE worst Christmas Present/Secret Santa.
I'm the guy who has toys on his desk at the office (The NECA TMNT,random MLs, some DCUC... I rotate the figs every few weeks) I asked for a copy of Interview With The Vampire (book) cause it's my favorite out of the Vampire Chronicles. AND any GI Joe RoC fig. (WE HAD to buy gifts worth approx. $25)
Instead I got Twilight AND the Edward and Bella two pack by NECA...

If that doesn't count then, pretty much every christmas where I got clothes instead of toys...

I was given FF12 for Christmas....

I was at a bookstore one October with my aunt and uncle. For once we're actually interacting without it being weird and I'm talking about these pair of books I'm picking up. They were with me through the whole store for an hour, they saw the books. They were at the register with me when I bought them. They were there when I was leafing through them while all of us were hanging out that night. We talked about the titles.

Guess what I unwrapped at their house less than two months later?

Last Year:A 70's rock collection CD. No good songs, all shitty soft rock Chicago/Paper Lace crap. And with my dad's kickasstacular taste in music, it could have been avoided. but I got a guitar and a computer as early presents this year, so... yeah, it balances.

I already won a shirt so I think that disqualifies me.. but I have to share.

I have tattoos. I had a bf who had a lot of tattoos. We had been official for almost a year and it was our first Christmas together. He loves horror games, as do I, and I knew the one thing missing in his collection was Fatal Frame 2 which was going on ebay for about 100 and he just didn't have the cash.

Being the best girlfriend in the world I got him that and Gitarooman (another title he longed for and..well...I wanted to play too.)

I think I somehow got it in my head that the better present I got him, he would somehow be able to psychically match it's awesomeness. So I waited with baited breath for my present(s).

He got me a tattoo. Not, not one I could wear, he got himself a tattoo FOR me.

It was on his ass.

It said 100% Grade A Prime Beef. Like a stamp. He was dead serious and.. I think.. waiting for me to swoon or squeal or fawn over him. Still not sure. What I WAS doing was wishing I had gotten my 'present' first so I could have kept those games myself.

My dad is a prankster (read: dickwad) and likes to try and scar his children for life. One Christmas when I was around nine he came rushing into my room really fucking early in the morning. I mean, it's so fucking early that even my Christmas-loving, Santa Claus-believing-in nine year old self didn't want to wake up. He tells me, in this voice that is so sad that I can't help but be worried, that something bad has happened.

So, I'm thinking "Holy shit. Someone is hurt." However, he leads me to the living room to reveal my presents are covered in dog shit and chunky puke. I'm relieved that shit and puke are all that's wrong. But, then my parents are angry with me for some reason.

He and my mom tell me I left the door open and Babs (our outside dog named after the Tiny Toon character) got in and got sick while I was sleeping. If I want my presents, they say, I have to clean them off. They hand me some paper towels and I'm crying, thinking this is the worst Christmas ever. I get in trouble for something I didn't know I did and have to clean my own shit covered presents. Fuck!

Then, I start to wipe the first pile of puke and discover that it's really just prank vomit. My parents start laughing at me as I chunk fake dog shit at them feeling betrayed and angry. Merry fucking Christmas, huh?

I know it's not technically a gift, but the experience was so scarring (and gift related!) that I don't remember any other Christmases. (Except the Christmas I spent alone playing PC games.) I don't remember any presents I've ever received as no present has ever disappointed (or delighted) me more than that experience leading up to my mediocre presents had upset me.

My worst Christmas gift ever was a shirt I was given back in the early 80s. And it was a really bad shirt. I received the shirt from my oldest brother and his wife, she bought it, I know this because even my brother, who I was not close to, would have known I would never wear this shirt. It had to have been a flea market buy, as that hwere she bought all her gifts.

It looked like a 70s reject. The shirt's material was velvet or suppose to be velvet. It was this color of blue/green/aquamarine, I want to say teal but I don't think it got that close to the right shade of blue/green. It was a pull-over with a snaps to close the top. Now the weird part of the shirt was how it was designed. It had one of those flaps you see in Sci-Fi clothing, the snaps/edge of the flap ran from near my shoulder, on an angle, down to the bottom of my ribs. The flap when not closed would hang across the bottom of the ribs and an inner lining would show. The neck was so small I could barely get my head through it, and needed help getting it out. On top of that, when I went to unsnap the snaps, one of them to tore off. I wore it only that once and then forgot at the bottom of my drawer for many years.

My worst Christmas gift ever was the first Twilight novel, I was a 19 year old, second year univeristy English major and my mother gave me a copy of Twilight, smiled and said "All the girls your age are reading it."

Shampoo and a comb. I was shaving my head bald at the time. So yeah....

Two touch-sensitive lamps for outdoor use. I lived on the third floor.

I remember getting a Game Boy Color for Christmas. It was my first hand-held console, and in fact the only console after the Sega Genesis broke. Do you know what game I got for it?
http://gameboy.ign.com/articles/164/164730p1.html

WORST FUCKING GAME EVER. FUCK YOU GAME BOY COLOR. I DID NOT FORGET WHERE I WAS, AND EVEN IF I HAD I WOULD JUST WISH I WAS THERE INSTEAD OF PLAYING YOU! FUCK....

I had just turned 13 and was already a salty vetran of the rough seas known as The Internet. I had been tainted by horrible fanfiction, worse role playing, and even bad-er advances by older gentlemen of various degress of creepy. And yet, I was still one of those spunky "JAPAN IS GREAT, I MEAN, KAWAII" kids drawing their Mary Sues (or Gary Stus or sometimes some bad amalgamation of the two) and trolling arround for the latest information on the series I loved. I was ready and willing to rock the whole fanart thing, pre-DeviantArt, when Elfwood was all the nerdy rage.

I had hinted to my mother on various occasions that the key to my future happiness, nay, the benefit of the entire information super highway, would be a scanner so I could scan in my art and hopefuly get showered with praise and free toys and videos and what-have-you. Under the tree appeared a package shape I was not used to, so I dared a peek under one of the corners... It was a white box with the letters 'Sc' visible!!! I refrained from opening it further and told my online friends that I was sooooooo getting a scanner and everything was going to be awesome. What did I get when Christmas morning came at last?

http://www.amazon.com/Black-Decker-S300-ScumBuster-Cordless/dp/B00004SBGQ

A Black & Decker ScumBuster. Yes, my mother in a statement to me that I wasn't cleaning the house like she wanted me to, got me a damn power tool for cleaning bathtubs and sinks. It was used a total of two times; work with the ScumBuster quickly ended out of bitter protest plus the fact that the thing was HORRIBLE at its job. The ScumBuster had no power at all and thus did not in fact bust scum. Thanks for the memories Black & Decker.

So, I come from a mixed family- Jewish Father, Catholic Mother. My Father hates Santa, so, my Mother one year decided instead of getting gifts from Santa, we'd get gifts from "The Christmas Angel" (my siblings and I being 15-19 at this point).

I had a fish tank at the time, and wanted fish for Christmas. A tricky thing to pull off as a surprise. Still, my Mother was a determined woman. While I was working a double shift a few days before Christmas, she went to the pet store, and bought me an angel fish, and snuck it into the tank, hoping I'd be too busy to notice the thing before Christmas day. It worked. So, after we had opened all of our presents, my Mother told me to go and check his fish tank. Excited, I rushed to check it- only to discover the angel fish belly up, with a sticker next to it mocking me, saying it was the Christmas Angel's doing. More like the Christmas Angel of death.

No offense to anyone with this story, but I'm just sayin' how it happened.

When my brother and I were considerably younger, I think I was 10 at the time which would make my brother 8, we each received a bible from my one aunt. She was an overly religious zealot while my brother and I were not raised religious, and this is something she knew. This was our only present from her; a cheap bible. It had a plastic, faux leather cover and the pages were that super-thin paper that felt like it might rip if you moved wrong. The inside had been personally addressed to each of us with a wish that we would "join the flock."

As a credit to my parents, we both said thank you and continued the day just fine. When we got home however, my brother cried. I believe I was quite angry with a ten-year-old's rage.

I still to this day wish my parents had listened to me and gotten her a copy of the Torah for the next Christmas, personalized of course.

While I'm pretty sure every year at my house has its own degree of suck (considering my dad's too lazy to put up a tree, so we get a chair instead. A CHAIR!), but I think the worst was the one I got last year. It wasn't the present itself that was bad, it's just that...well, here's a little tip for everyone: If you're going to play someone's Christmas present before you wrap it and put it under the "Christmas Chair", make sure you take it out of the Playstation 3 and put it back in the case first, because someone (me) will be wondering why Bioshock is in there when they (I) try to play Silent Hill Homecoming the next day. Worst surprise ever.

I was about 12, my grandma gave me a little coin purse thingy (I'm male) and inside was a whole penny... the next year I got THE SAME DAMN THING!!!

One year my Grandma decided she didn't want to bother shopping for us I guess, so she just scrounged up gifts from around her house. I ended up getting Silly Putty that looked like it was from 1976, that she "found in the back of a closet." On top of that, she didn't even bother to wrap it, it was just in an old plastic grocery bag.

I don't even think I bothered opening it, but if I had I'm sure the plastic egg would have been filled with silly dust.

First of all, it needs to be said that I'm a guy. I've never been effeminate or anything, and yet, one of my aunts bought me a friggin' Hello Kitty diary for Christmas when I was 10. Even worse, she couldn't be bothered to remove the piece of masking tape on the back that had it labeled as 25 cents. So, not only did she buy me a shitty Christmas gift intended for another gender, but she got it at a garage sale. It was a wonderful Yuletide kick in the nuts.

My mom got me drawer organizers. You wouldnt think thats so bad, right? I mean, hey socks and stuff, its all good? No. NO.
These organizers were for silverware. You know, those seperators you put in the kitchen to keep the knives and forks apart, that sort of thing.
You tell me; What in the WORLD does an eleven year old girl need with drawer organizers?! Let alone one for KITCHEN UNTENCILS. Seriously. It may have been alright had she been kidding.(Her real gift was dissapointment.)

The worst christmas gift I got was a chrismas-theme boxer short. Let me repeat that: A CHRISMAS-THEME BOXER SHORT! No games, No toys, A FUCKING CHRISMAS-THEME BOXER SHORT.

I got Shaq Fu for the SNES one year, enough said.

Which one is the worst? I'll let you decide as each Christmas they got worse and worse. Back in the 80s my aunt was really into new age Christian televangelist kind of stuff and for some reason she thought I'd share the same love of Christianity as she did. Now let me tell you this, I'm a Roman Catholic so we are raised to fear God and respect Jesus. Well here is the story of how each year she got me (and my sister) worse and worse gifts.

Year 1: David and Goliath action figures.

I wasn't a douchebag kid, but when I saw these figures I was flabbergasted and confused. What the hell was this? It wasn't GI Joe, it wasn't He-Man, hell it wasn't even Black Starr. It was a special two-pack with a David figure that looked like crap and came with a yellow sling and Goliath that looked like a pieced of crap Masters of the Universe (MOTU) wannabee figure. David was cheap and broke almost immediately so he went to the trash. Goliath lasted longer and became one of Skeletor's henchmen. Oh he didn't amount to much, but at least he had more victories than Zodac.

Year 2: Christian Soldier figure.

I can't really explain this guy as he looked somewhat like a Roman centurion except he carried the sword of light, the helmet of truth, and the shield of Justice or something like that. He sucked. At least Goliath's stocky and dumpy build fit into the MOTU line, Christian Soldier was too big and lame looking to be good in any battle. So as fate would have it he joined the He-Man side and was captured by Skeletor, tortured, had his legs amputated, and was dumped in some pit. His weapons were melted down and that was the last time I ever played with it.

Year 3: Noah's Ark paper/folding book.

Now this year was weird, previously my aunt got me and my sister our own religious toys, but this year she gave us one gift to share, some kind of paper/foldout Noah's ark thing. It wasn't really a toy and it wasn't even really a book. It made Happy Meal and cereal box prizes, hell even CrackerJack prizes look like gold. This thing sucked. I told my sister she could just have it. She may have been younger, but even she new it was crap. I think a day later it just disappeared.

Now to be fair, I didn't know at that time that my aunt and uncle were almost broke as it turns out my aunt gave most of their money to that Christian Televangelist. So to be fair, now I know why she gave us what she did back then, but they were crap none-the-less.

Recently, one of my grandma's has started to give me some cheap, wooden christmas gifts, generally spending no more than £5. Last year I got a wooden 1920's style model car about the size of my fist. Sounds ok until you realise that the wheels didn't move and the entire thing was painted a sickly green (including the wheels and the WINDOWS). Needless to say, it broke before new year's.

What makes this so disapointing is that until I was 15 or so, she would give me a christmas card with money in it. Now I just get wooden crap. Ah to be young again...

so this happened when i was around 12 or 13. in october i had sent away for special pokemon bowls. they were a special on the back of quaker oatmeal at the time. i ate a shit ton of oatmeal and saved up the 6 dollars to send for it. they never showed up. i found out why on christmas. my mom had intercepted the package. and gave me 1 bowl from her and the other bowl from santa. needless to say i was pissed. when i asked her about it she got mad at me and then i had to take down the christmas tree by myself. on christmas morning. that was the last time i ever celebrated christmas.

So there's plenty of bad gifts but the worst gift is when your parents claim it to be your "big" present and they are ever so excited to see you open it. They lived with me for 18 years and still don't know I couldn't care less about jewelry. Unless it has a Triforce on it or something, and it didn't. Yet my big present is a necklace. I don't like necklaces, you can't play a necklace, it doesn't taste and it too expensive to blow up. I never worn it, the chain seems to fragile to even touch it. I would have been happier with socks, at least I wear socks. I kind of sound a bit spoiled in this post...

My parents where never rich(still aren't, lol) but like any geek worth his salt in the late 80s and early 90s, I was really into Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I was used to getting those, even out of season. But one Chrismas caught my parents on a low budget. But they had their hands and their skills. They MADE us Ninja Turtles! Using Paper Mache and paint and i think some wirehangers, in one night they pulled together some fairly decent turtles. They where quite big, too, like the size of a Teddy Bear. My Brother and I loved them.

BUT...there was a downside. You have to give Paper Mache a decent time to dry up, and even then, it's not the sturdiest of materials. And their Ninja Turtles, so you're supposed to pretend to kick stuff and hit them against stuff. By days end our turtles looked like shark attack victims. And the next day, they where gone into the thrash.

When I was around 10, my grandparents bought a bb gun for Christmas. It was so cool, my parents would never have one. While visiting my grandparents I became bored shooting pop cans and decided to see how strong the rifle was. I ended up shooting the windows out of an unused truck topper. I got in trouble, they took away my gun and I felt so ashamed that I avoided my grandparents for the next few years.

When I was a baby, I suppose I cried on Christmas once or twice. The only time I can actually remember crying on Christmas is when I was seven or eight. It was the early nineties, when styles were at their worst. I opened up a present from my parents on this Christmas morning to discover a pair of shorts in the loudest, wildest, and awesomest neon color arrangement I had ever seen. I was so excited, I had to try them on at once! But it wasn't a pair of shorts, oh no! My parents got their darling little boy a SKIRT. What could they think of me? Was it a cruel joke? Was I learning of the fallibility of grown-ups? Most certainly.
.
There is another story, perhaps not so terrible, but one I tell just as frequently. For years, I'd been lusting after a gameboy, as my three older cousins each had one. I'd put it on my Christmas list year after year, and never get one. This went on six? Seven years? Then one Christmas, I got two. Honestly, Grandma. You couldn't have gotten me a Game Gear? That would have made it the best Christmas ever! Oh well...

Okay, this isn't a gift I gave or received per say, but rather one I was a party to (inadvertently). My buddy has a real dick of a younger brother with a loudmouth and a sense of entitlement. He actually made his mom cry by bitching about his gifts one Christmas and said that she was the one that ruined the day which wouldn't have happened had she only given him what she wanted. Anyway, he'd been dropping hints about(aka demanding) a Wii for Christmas about three years back. Just so happened that I snagged one for myself by that time. So my buddy begged me to sell him the box and the case to my Twilight Princess game, which I eventually agreed to after he promised to reimburse me if any of my crap had to be returned. I wasn't there for it but from what I gather the little brat openned the wrapped and empty game case to find a letter reading "Merry Christmas, Jackass! Get ready to be REALLY pissed off." After that, he turned to the larger, suspiciously light box on which the game case was placed. Under the wrapping was, yep you guessed it, my empty Wii box with a note inside reading, "Box. Dick not included. But a generous donation has been made in your name to a truly deserving person." (Remember, the SNL skit had just debuted). Turns out my friend stole the Wii his mom actually got for his younger brother, sold it, and bought certificates to a new spa for her. While the aftermath wasn't exactly pretty (but worked out in the end including the mother keeping and being able to use the certificates), I maintain the whole episode is the quintessential definition of yuletide ownage.

Growing up, we always did Christmas morning gifts (aka the Mother Lode) with my mom's family, and Christmas Eve dinner and limited presents with my dad's family. Just the easiest way to see both sides of the family, since almost all of them lived relatively close. Since my folks always communicated well with my brother, JoshK, and me for gifts, we never had 'bad presents' per se (we never resented clothes and they always saved the best for last)...but there was one Christmas Eve gift session that really put a downer on the Christmas Eve for my brother, JoshK, and me.

It was the Christmas where I was 15 and my brother was 11. By then, not only did we have much younger cousins, but my older cousins had kids as well. There were a lot of gifts wrapped underneath the tree, and JoshK and I were anticipating opening ours. Curious cursory glances didn't show any immediate gifts with our names on it, but we didn't want to be rude and completely root through things (we were starting to mature, after all).

After dinner, the gift exchanges began. The adults did "secret santa name swaps" amongst each other while the kids opened the many gifts they got. As the gifts dwindled, JoshK and I were becoming slightly disheartened. Sure, we had been handed a few cards so far and they had "Sally Gifts" (tens and twenties) in them, but no actual GIFTS. No wrapped packages. JoshK and I were able to hide our ever-growing anguish from everyone but our dad. He pulled us aside not to scold us, but just to inform us that, since we were now becoming teenagers (JoshK and I were often lumped together) and had gift lists that were hard to shop for (we tended to ask for pretty specific and relatively obscure), it would be easier for them to just give us money.

Needless to say, JoshK and I were incredibly crushed (though continued to hide it from the rest of the family). We were in that awkward stage; not quite adults, yet no longer kids. Sure, our aunts, uncles, and grandparents meant well, and we were appreciative, but they obviously forgotten that sometimes, it's not the gift itself, but the presentation. It's holding a solid object in your hands, wrapped in that special paper that no other paper feels like (not even birthday wrapping paper feels quite the same). It's that wonderful tearing sound as you remove two, sometimes three layers off one another. So beautiful a site, seeing your name and the name of the giver shining brighter than the colorful paper itself, and thanking them not just for the gift itself, but for the experience. Envelopes have no weight and none of the care that goes into wrapping gifts. Money just has a sense of detachment to it, like the person didn't have time to go looking for something you wanted, or something you will like (this was also before the popularity of gift cards, which IS a bit of a step up from cold, hard cash).

JoshK and I felt a bit of our childhood slip away that year. Sure, the next morning we got to make up for the previous night, but the damage had been done. We were no longer allowed to just sit back and enjoy Christmas with the blind faith of childhood anymore. Believe or not, MONEY was the worst Christmas gift we have ever received.

Well ho ho ho, in 1982 my parents wrapped a guineapig in a cage for my brother and I to open up and enjoy as a new pet. The little Christmas present died sometime in the night and we got to bury it before we opened anything else! Nice! (However we got a pingpoing table that year too... so fuck you Grim Reaper of Christmas!) Yea I know you said in the rules no stories about death unless they were wrapped up... well it was... thanks, and yes that is a mistletoe beltbuckle! GET KISSING!

You know, it took me a while to come up with something, because my parents generally spoiled me a lot growing up. This wasn't a bad "gift" per say, as it was something I had been wanting, but man did it turn into a stinker.

I think there is a 1/5 or so chance that a young boy will have an obsession with Dinosaurs. I was in that 1/5 group. And I was fortunite enough to grow up in the day and age of not only vast knowledge of Dinosaurs (As well as crappy old tapes about dinosaurs which even today make me smile because their special effects look like they were made when they had just discovered that they can get color on TV), but also just in time for the Jurrasic Park craze. I remember the local mall even had a little exhibit with electic models of Dinosaurs when I was like 6. Soooo badass.

Aaaaanyway, with Jurrasic Park out, video games and what not were sure to follow. This is actually around the time the 3rd flick came out. I wanted a Jurrasic Park game badly, but didn't have a playstation for the original games, which I think were exclusive (or thought so in my young age. My parents might have not wanted me to play a game were I was a T-Rex eating people). But once I got older, I found a game that I was obsessed with getting. And that was Jurassic Park: Scan Command.

First off, I loved Spinosaurus. When I was 6 years old, looking up their information and info on how long they were, and their body builds, I quickly realized that Spinosaurus would kick T-Rex's ass. So, seeing old Spiny on the cover of a game basically drove me into total Dino-Nerd frenzy. It was around September when I saw the game, and I borderline begged my parents to get it for me, even in spite of the 50 buck price tag. Alas, it would not do.

3 months later, it's Christmas time, and I open up to find... Jurassic Park: Scan Command! *Bleep* YEAH! It was the first gift I wanted to use, and basically ran to my computer to get ye olde hardrive booted up to install the game. Aaaand this is when it all goes horribly horribly wrong.

First off, let me explain the concept of Scan Command to you. It was a game were you can use a barcode scanner that comes with the game to download different types of "DNA" from whatever bar codes you scan. Back when I was younger, I thought the idea sounded neat. Now at 21, I can realize that it was a gimmick. And a bad one at that. Oh, and to top it off? THE *BLEEP*ING THING DIDN'T WORK!

So, my Jurassic Park video gaming dream was denied harshly. However, it took me 3 days for it to really sink in that they got me ANOTHER PC based Jurassic Park video game, that I just hadn't been anywhere near as hyped for. That would be Jurassic Park: Chaos Island, which was an old cheapy. I played it. I loved it. Approaching 10 years later, I still play it! God bless you Chaos Island! And curse you Scan Command!

"Because I'd hate for you all to go two weeks without a mind-scarring FFF and a TR contest, I'll run both of 'em on New Year's Eve. You're ever so welcome."

Uh, thanks. I think...

I've been with my girlfriend for about 8 months now. In this time span she has turned me into her pet. Our Christmas schedule...whatever she says.
As for worst gift I ever got, I would have to go with the Ultimate Wolverine bobblehead my aunt got me along with a Cosby sweater. The sweater was too big and the bobblehead was one of the ugliest things ever. Remember when Marvel released their own line of crap before realizing they suck and licensed their characters out to good companies? Yeah you get the idea. Some asshat at Spencers told her it was the hot item that year. I guess my aunt didnt see the mark down sticker on the box cuz she some how believed him.

This was pretty recently actually, maybe 2 Christmases ago. My grandparents, mostly grandmother, would always get us kinda crappy presents. Usually a gift card for my brother and I, and something for the whole family. This time that something was a candle holder, shaped like a wine glass, filled with sand. We actually kept it in the living room for a few months, until she visited again and said "You guys actually kept that ugly thing?"

My mother gets flaky at busy times and is against capitalism materialism, a combination which usually means bum presents. Nowadays she gets like a goat for the third world or simliar. But the worst Christmas every I got four gifts:

* A Billy the Fish book collecting a bunch of strips from Viz that was so second-hand the pages were falling out
* A second-hand Lawrence Durrell book, an author I've never had any interest in
* A bootleg Teletubbies key-ring, basically a cheap printout of the characters in a standard clear plastic shell
* A bootleg Teletubbuies sponge with enough likeness changes that it was only just recognisable

I didn't have any particular fondness for the Teletubbies. I was 23. My brother did me the kindness of letting me leave the presents at his flat, and subsequently disposed of them quietly and without fuss.

There I was, Christmas morning all those years ago. Under the tree sat a box, not too large, but not small, with a tag that read from my grandma.

Now, to my preteen excitement, this box could be anything, a board game, a re-packaged set of action figures, even that boxed set of Sherlock Holmes I was wanting.

I crack the wrapping, a plain white box emerges.
I crack the box and there it was, sitting in a mound of tissue paper.

A fist-sized eraser, of Disney's take on Quasimodo.

My parents bought me a bra from Victoria's Secret. It was a subtle hint to lose some weight. And by subtle, I mean I don't speak with them anymore.

In Junior High, I once made a professional-looking coupon for "one date with me" and gave it to a cute girl I had a crush on. Oh... the pitying laughter...

Okay, so back when my sister and I were in grade school (late 80's early 90's) all we really wanted was a SNES. Sooooo very Badly.

But my Mom was married to the biggest DOUCHEBAG ever. He made it fervently clear that he didn't have any interest in what we wanted for Christmas, let alone the huge hints we'd been dropping for the SNES. At least we thought.

Low and BEHOLD, Christmas morning arrives... (my Mom was always great about presentation, the living room looked amazing!!) my sister and I saw it.. the box was the perfect size and weight.. the tag however said it was from "DoucheBag." Odd.

We rip into it... its a huge box... filled with cans of Peas and Carrots and Green Beans, WTF?
Douchebag seemed to think it was really funny and began to laugh really loudly and really hard. Sister and I cried, those were the vegetables we hated the most and wouldn't eat.
To top it all off he told us that if we made it through the next year and ate all the cans of veggies. MAYBE, we'd get a good present next year.
ASSHOLE.
I still hate Green Beans.

My parents have always been big on Christmas, spending ridiculous amounts of money on me and my brothers every year growing up. Unfortunately, because of the size of our family, almost every year one of us will be forgotten about until a couple days before Christmas. One particularly expensive Xmas morning, I had no idea what my parents were going to give me(I think I was 13, which means it must have been '95). My oldest brother opened his gift - it was a brand new computer. We all started getting really excited as my next brother opened his gift: a brand new fucking computer. When the last of my brothers unwrapped their motherfuckingcockshitting computers, I looked under the tree. One little package left - with my name on it.
...
DRAMATIC PAUSE

Travel mug. I shit you not. I swear to GORILLA GRODD, nobody even fucking noticed.

the worse christmas gift i got was when i was 16 and wound up with some hair gel and a a comb. yes hair gel and a comb. which given how my hair styling is just rising and using a hair dryer. and since then every time i get a gift from said relitive after they leave the things go vanishing into realm of lost gifts. though kept a pillow i also got that year wrapped up in a tippy toes box.

When I was a kid, I loved Legos and wanted nothing more than the Robin Hood: Nottingham Castle set.

Instead I got a huge container of Tyco Super-Blocks. The only thing worse than not getting what you wanted, is getting a piss-poor derivative of the item you wanted.

Also, Tyco Super-Blocks were supposed to be compatible with Legos. They're about as compatible as using parts from your wash-machine to fix your car.

I had some pretty epic Christmases growing up. Mornings filled with mountains of discarded paper and tape among throngs of gi joes, transformers, zoids, video games, and bikes.

I remember one year as the transformers were getting to be super popular I really wanted Optimus and Megatron.

Instead I got all the third tier characters and friggin gobots. Not even cool transformations, but the kind where you stand them on the end and pull the arms out to the side... Not too bad, I was never mad at Christmas, until I saw what my little brother got to open... OMEGA FRIGGIN SUPREME!

Thankfully a few weeks later they let me get Jetfire and Optimus with some Christmas money and some help from them. Megatron was never allowed. I thought it was because he was a gun... It's more because his 80's 'bot form was sick... http://www.robot-japan.com/Gallery/Takara/Transformers/G1/Megatron-G1/Megatron-sd.jpg

I'm seeing some real pain here so I don't know if I can compete. Still, I'll give it a shot. As my birthday falls in December and my family was never rolling in it, Christmas often saw one gift meant to serve double duty. One year, things were improving and and I had managed to convey exactly what I wanted; A Robotix Bront set. He was my favorite character on the short lived TV series. I even told my grandmother about him. So Christmas morning rolls around and lo and behold! My parents AND my grandmother had gotten me the same thing. I was fine with this. Two building kits meant I could build more stuff and have spare parts! However, right there, my parents decided I should give one set to my older brother for some reason. So mark off one less gift for me and one more for him. Plus he was really particular about HIS kit not getting mixed with mine. FEH.

Unless your loved one died and was actually wrapped in a present for you to open, I don't want to hear about it.

That was going to be my story. Thanks for ruining it :(

I remember waking up one Christmas Morning as a little boy and running downstairs to see the presents there was a bunch of them all over the place, but in the center was a giant box. I went to see what name was on it, it was mine, a giant box all for me. So i went to open it and inside was another box, it kept going like this til i had like 6 boxes and in the middle of the smallest one was crumpled up paper.

Harry. Potter. Plastic. Rocks.

I swear. Some of my relatives, having heard about "that Harry Potter thing that all the kids were into", bought me a plastic tube filled with three pieces of translucent neon plastic. They each had the name of a Harry Potter characters stamped on them. God Lord. Can you imagine the evil, triumphant laughter at that marketing meeting?

"PLASTIC ROCKS. WE CAN MAKE THEM BUY PLASTIC ROCKS. WE. ARE. GOD."- Merchandising dude

My worst present has no nerdy tie-in.

I have a very unique style. You can't even label it. Some days I'm more goth, some days I'm clean cut. But I'm never, ever Cowboy.
I'm in high school and I'm predominantly wearing blacks, greys and neon during this particular year. My grandmother, Great Mother bless her, mixes up gifts. I get a shirt made for what appears to be a four year old girl (or boy). However, the shirt looks like this. It's long sleeved, white, and across the chest is a fringe with embroidery which starts from the shoulders and ends by the navel in a V formation. Around the V-neck collar(which makes me think it's made for a girl) is a permanent bolo tie in a reddish-pink colour. UGLY.

I think my worst present came from my grandmother back when I was about eight or nine. By this point, all of the family realized that I was a tomboy. I hated Barbies and often tortured or decapitated them or forced them to leap to their deaths whenever someone gave me one as a present. So yeah, no one tried that crap again.

But oh no, one year my grandmother decided she wouldn't accept that. All I wanted were sports crap, art supplies, books, Koosh, Nerf, Gak (insert more silly 90s products), or dragon stuff. Remember the American Girl series? Oh yes, she got me not only one of those freaky dolls but half of the shit made for her. So not only did my mother elbow me to smile and act gracious, but months later I had to play along and have "tea parties" and pretend I was enjoying the doll until my grandmother was satisfied, because oh that was such an expensive gift. Damn things still take up an entire shelf in the closet.

Last Christmas, my step-grandparents gave me a memo pad. They had forgotten to get me a present, so grabbed it out of their home office. They didn't even bother to shove it in a bag, just handed it to me.
Although I don't know if that beats this Christmas, when my brother got a set of board games from Goodwill. Half the pieces were missing, but there was a dead cockroach inside as a bonus!

A jar of pickles. A Giant Jar of Giant Pickles.
Not so bad, if you're like me, and love pickles. Not so awesome if 1/2 of your family happens to be cuckoo for coco-puffs and vindictive as hell.

My parents divorced when I was quite young, and my dad moved back in with his parents and lived there for much of my childhood. While visiting my dad at their house sometime in the two months or so before Christmas when I was about 7 or 8, I was unable to finish a picture I was drawing because it was time to go back to my mom's. I grabbed a random book off my grandma's bookshelf so I'd have something hard to draw on while my grandpa drove me home. I finished the drawing in the few minutes it took to drive me home, left the book in the van and didn't think anything of it. About a week or so later, my grandma calls me down to her sewing room. Generally, being called down there while she is working is a Very Bad Thing. Sure enough, she accuses me of attempting to steal a book about trains (a subject in which I have never shown the remotest of interest) that grandpa found under one of the seats in the van. I explain that it must have been the book I was drawing on, that I didn't want to steal it, and it must have slid under the seat after I got out of the van. To which she replies "Don't lie to your grandma, grandma always knows when you're lying". I refused to admit to trying to steal a book I had no intention of stealing, so she sent me away crying. Of course, my lovely father refused to back me up on any of this.

Soon after, Christmas decorations go up, and over the weeks, the presents start piling up under the tree. There is, from the beginning a Giant. Jar. Of. Giant. Pickles. No tag, but I know it's for me, I am the only one who loves pickles that much. As the weeks go on, while visiting my dad I notice that there are a godzillian presents for everyone else. and The. Giant. Jar. Of. Giant. Pickles. for me. And nothing else. A few days before Christmas Eve -the night my grandparents had everyone over, I hide the hated jar, intending to show that I know why it's the only present for me under the tree and I would rather have nothing than admit to something I didn't do.

Christmas Eve rolls around and to my horror the FUCKING JAR OF PICKLES IS BACK. I stuff myself into a corner and refuse to pay attention to anything that is going on. The family starts opening presents. Once all gifts are handed out, grandma scoops up the seething ball of Spooky, and asks if I thought I was only getting pickles. "'s". "Do you know why?" "'s."
....And out come the rest of my gifts. She made the entire family hide their presents from me to make a goddammit point about not lying to grandma about trying to steal a book that I didn't goddammit want so I would think all I was getting was a goddammit GIANT JAR OF GIANT PICKLES.

Unsurprisingly, I now have 0 contact with my father's side of the family.
(Apologies for length...)

Wait, you're changing the robot? I thought the Robo-Tech-style robot was kick-ass.

I have a crazy grandma (don't we all?) who always gives out the strangest gifts. One year my dad and I (also a male) both got the same gift: a little, iridescent silver purse with pink and purple polka dots. Something a 5-year-old girl would like. We asked if she meant those to go to the two granddaughters, but no, she insisted, those were ours.

They were filled with brooches and kleenex.

Probably about two to three years ago my grandmother got me one of those iDogs... the gimmicky, dog shaped mobile speaker for the iPod. Not a bad gift, if you wanted one, or if you owned an iPod, which I didn't and don't.

So the iDog lives in my closet. Every time I move (which is often, being a college kid living in the city) I pick up the box with the iDog (it's always different) and the damn thing starts barking and playing shitty techno beats.

It doesn't stop. I don't know how to make it stop. The fucking thing barks randomly for days at a time.

Mmkay, I'm gonna try at this but it's not nearly as terrible as some here.
So I'm a simple kid, I like to think- I mean, I'm easily pleased and don't recall ever wanting anything so terribly that I would die if I didn't get it. I had two brothers to do all the freaking out over game systems and action figures. I was the girl who would go, 'cool' and be perfectly happy with a present whether it was a Batman action figure or a new watch.
I must've been about 10 or 11 or 12, I think, which was for me the year where logic starts coming into play and you start thinking, "okay so how exactly does Santa do it?" but you still want to keep the whole innocent Christmas spirit so you don't really think about it. Anyway. I don't remember what I was ever asking for, specifically. Was that the year of the Gameboy color? or Gameboy Advance? something like that. I was never too big on video games. What I really wanted, what I yearned for, was books. I fucking loved to read. This was the year I gave up on being a normal kid and started reading all the time and ohh, yeah, reading the 3rd Harry Potter book over and over and over again. I was a dork.
My brothers (one who's a year older, one a year younger) of course got up very early and of course stared at the gorgeous pile of presents underneath the tree, so early it's dark and you can't read which present is for you but there is a very very large box over in corner and the suspense is of course killing us. Our parents get up and we begin to unwrap presents- my brothers get their games and action figures and I get a book or two (not even good ones, if I recall correctly) and some stupid girly clothes I'd never wear and maybe a toy or two. Then, my father walks over to the big box. It's for me. I'm in shock; nothing I desire is that big. But I open it up anyway.
It's one of those basketball hoop games: http://www.awesomebrowncountycabins.com/2008photos/oaksbasketball.jpg

I'm a chubby 11 year old girl who's forever reading and never shown any inclination in any sport ever. EVER. I'd never done any sort of school sport and, well, I think accidentally I got sent to one of those 'basketball day camps' but I hated it and sucked at it.
I remember my dad putting the game up in my room, where I played it once or twice and then never again, so it just took up space in my room for like a year. Seriously. The most pointless gift ever.
I'm still not sure to this day what my parents were thinking. Was it a hint to get out more? or just 'fuck it, let's get her a basketball game'?

I was 11. I enjoyed taking baths so I could play GI joe. My aunt knowing I liked bubble baths got me a personalized bubble bath called "Zach's Bathtime BubbleStuff"...It was a bottle of yellow JOY dish washing soap, with a black felttip pen label glued on...After I used it once it got wet and the label fell off....Underneath the JOY label was still there...after all the things I could do to justify the gift as nice,THAT was the worst part. JOY dishsoap for the bath.

I got a metaphorical slap in the face in the shape of educational toys in boxes that resembled videogame systems.

My parents were evil people. But even in a noble kind of way. If that makes any sense.

My mom's cousin worked for Avon in the 90s (as in before they decided to be "cool"). Some Christmas gift highlights: roll on deodorant for my 13-year-old sister, tree shaped or calender lip balm EVERY FREAKING YEAR, and basically everything that you see in the catalogs that makes you go "Who in the hell would buy that?".

This is one that I didn't get, but my late, dearly departed older sister got.

She met a guy from Scotland over the Internet, and went to see him and his family one year for Christmas. She got from the guy's mother for Christmas a small purse that resembled a woman's bustier/corset, which I guess was the big thing over in Scotland that year. My sister was the sort of person who would not have bought something like that for herself personally, which makes it weirder. But she just had a laugh about it.

I've been bowling since I was 8 (remember that part) So for Christmas, when I was 12, I wanted a brand new bowling ball. I begged and pleaded with parents (and santa) to let me have one. So on Christmas Day, I get up and see a package where a new bowling ball would be. So excited, I opened that sucker up, and inside of it was an giant can of Chef Boyardee. No bowling ball, no bowling stuff overall, just a giant fucking can of Beefaroni. I no longer cared for Christmas after that moment.

It must be really hard to buy for 13yr olds. (Especially when your parents wait until Dec 21st every year before starting to shop for five kids and several grandkids.) The only present I got from my parents that year was actually a thinly veiled gift for my mom. It was in a huge box under the tree and I was stumped as to what was in it. When the big day came, I opened it and found to my dismay that it was a word processor. Little more than an electric type writer. We already had a PC, so what the hell was this for? Mom said I could use it for writing assignments, but it was useless, since I sucked at typing and if you made too many mistakes it would run out of correction tape. I quickly went back to using the computer. My mom still uses it to this day.

On another note, one awesome present we got when I was eight made my Christmas evening a living hell. We got an NES and myself and my brothers played Super Mario and Duck Hunt for Ten hours without a break. I ended up with my first and only migraine that left me writhing on the living room floor all night.

My worst present is what I will receive this chirstmas from my mum.

On Monday I found out that I'm probably allergic to gluten so I had to cut things out of my diet like sweets and stuff, whcih I didn't mind too much since I don't eat alot of sweets.

However I was at my mums today for my birthday and almost all of my presents were sweets full of gluten.

I reminded her of the allergy and she simply replied that she had already bought them before I told her.

She also added that I should expect mostly the same for xmas too.

So worst presents ever: Sweets from my mum that she knows will cause lots of pain and possible internal bleeding if I try to eat them. Hope that's not too tragic =P

One year for Christmas I had been hinting at a new PS2 game. I didn't care what it was or even if it was cheap; I just needed a new game to play. My parents made it seem like I was going to get one-we even went to a gamestop together. On x-mas morning, I woke up bright and early and idly wondered what game I would get. I gathered with the family, ate breakfast, and then opened my gift. What was inside? A dollar store necklace, that later gave me a cut. The best part is, the paint wore off, stained my skin green, and the necklace was an ugly coppery color underneath.

This is no story of a weak gag gift or anything like that. One year for Christmas all I wanted was a pair of roller blades. I had been asking for them for a year. Before Christmas a nice big heavy box showed up under the tree. I was so happy, and my parents even acted like I was getting the perfect gift.

Christmas morning I went through the motions of opening my other three gifts. I always get scrunchies, socks, and bath oil beads. I saved the best for last. I delicately took off the wrapping paper and discovered my own brand new Brother Typewriter. What!!! This is not a cool gift. I can't play with this. Plus it was 1995, other kids got computers.

Then my parents laughed at me. They thought it was hilarious that I had wanted roller blades so badly, and the typewriter box was the perfect size and weight. My step-dad was like "Ha, and you wanted rollerblades."

Maybe if they had got me rollerblades, I wouldn't play roller derby now. Jerks.

The xmas before i moved away to university I got heaps of practical gifts from my family to help set me up in my new place. Lots of useful things like pots and pans, towels, crockery etc. My great aunt however took it a bit too far, she gave me two large tins of apricots and a can opener. And they weren't some type of fancy gourmet apricots either, they were the crappy generic supermarket brand.

My uncle once sent me a giftbox of shower gel and deoderant. Which wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact that it came with a note saying "thought it was about time you started using this sort of thing". They say it's the thought that counts, but in this case it only seemed to make it more hurtful.

When I was 6, in the early '70's I was a Disney nut. Mickey Mouse was my favorite cartoon character, and I loved Disney sing-a-longs. That Christmas I got my wish. My very own Disney Mickey Mouse Sing-a-long cassette. Normally this would be a great present. However, in the spirit of Christmas and to have a terrific setting for family photos my parents lit a cozy fire in the fireplace. Again, this is a beautiful setting for a wonderful Christmas.

The unfortunate thing was the Disney cassette was pack into the bottom of my Christmas stocking, along with a good portion of what would have been very tasty chocolate.

By the time the wrapped presents were shredded and we got ready to unpack the stockings there was a roaring fire in the fireplace and all of our hearts were nice and warm.

My mother ushered us to our stockings and started taking more pictures of my brother and my ecstatic faces as mine turned from joy to horror.

Not only had the chocolate completely melted and covered everything, the gorgeous Mickey Mouse Sing-a-long cassette had become something out of a Dali painting... warped plastic covered in milk chocolate.

My brother's stocking was fine... it had been at the end of the mantle and was unscathed. Mine however was totally non-viable. Nothing was usable or edible, and my precious cassette was destroyed.

When I was 10, my Grandmother gave me a multi-pack of pink satin padded coat hangers.
When I was visibly disappointed I was told how selfish I was.

a very, VERY cool Black-Spiderman/Venom T-shirt...WHICH WAS TWO SIZES TOO SMALL FOR ME!!

i thought i was crying blood when i had to give it up to my little cousin. and the proud smile on his face makes me want to kick a puppy or something.

One of the worst gifts I've ever received came from my an aunt on my mom's side. Truthfully, I think my aunt is the one ultimately responsible, as my uncle never seemed to be too enthusiastic or even interested in the holidays. Anyhow, I was about 11 or 12, and I was ripping into a gift from my aunt. I was used to her giving me something she's baked, or tins of Hershey Kisses. This morning, however, there were no baked goods or candies to be found. Instead, I opened the box and pulled off the tissue paper to find 3 pairs of bright red Bill Blass fashion underwear. I never even knew such a thing existed for boys my age. More importantly, who would actually buy that shit for their kid? I don't think I've been more uncomfortable, disappointed, and confused as I was at that exact moment.

At least I wasn't alone in my shock, as my parents were just as puzzled as I was, and just chalked it up as another weird gift from the crazy aunt. The worst part was when my aunt came over for dinner later. I don't think I was able to look her in the eyes for a while after that.

Every stinking year I get soap for Christmas. Not just any soap, but maple syrup soap, so when I'm forced to use it I end up smelling like pancakes for months afterwards. :P

I was good all year, and santa had the balls to get me color pencils. Not Crayola, but Rose art. Bull.

I have been married now for five years. At first, my wife has been decent with the presents. But starting two years ago it all changed. Now, since I have been married to my wife, she has always made more money than I do and I share in the all expenses. That year, I spent about 150 dollars on her. She on the other hand, had completely forgotten about christmas and when she did remember, she had no money because she did not budgetfor the month. Suffice to say, I did not receive anything from her that year. I had to wait until we got our tax refund to get a present. And since then, she always forgets and gets me crappy presents(like razor refills) when she does.

I have been married now for five years. At first, my wife has been decent with the presents. But starting two years ago it all changed. Now, since I have been married to my wife, she has always made more money than I do and I share in the all expenses. That year, I spent about 150 dollars on her. She on the other hand, had completely forgotten about christmas and when she did remember, she had no money because she did not budgetfor the month. Suffice to say, I did not receive anything from her that year. I had to wait until we got our tax refund to get a present. And since then, she always forgets and gets me crappy presents(like razor refills) when she does.

My grandma took a picture of me in a terrible sweater that she had given me the previous christmas(that I hated) and sent it into a company that turned it into a 1000 piece puzzle. You can imagine my joy on christmas morning when I opened that up and realized what it was.

Worst christmas present ever: panty-liners, I was 10. I'm a guy.

1986 was a traumatic year for me. Transformers had taken over my life the previous year, so every gift I got from there on in was TF-related. The year started badly when I got Smokescreen for my birthday, which was promptly broken my my supposed best friend. Then the movie came out, and I saw my hero Optimus Prime killed on screen (I still have nightmares). Still, by Christmas I'd amassed every single Autobot available - all except Prime.
That year, I didn't ask for any gifts. My parents knew what I wanted, what I'd wanted since the previous Christmas. So when I found that rectangular package under the tree my heart started beating faster. I slowly unwrapped the paper, seeing the familiar black box with red grid. Tearing what was left of the paper away, I couldn't believe it. Finally, I had Prime!
Except I didn't. I had Ultra fucking Magnus, the guy who waltzed in and assumed leadership of the Autobots before Prime's body was even cold. My parents didn't understand... They just saw a transforming truck and assumed they made the right choice.
It was the biggest disappointment of my 6-year-old life, and I never played with my Transformers again.

The female members of my family were always trying to reverse my intense Tom Boy-ishness so one year (when I was 5) my aunt, my mum, and my grandmother bought me nothing but Barbies, dolls, and those horrible toy janitoral broom and mop sets and toy dishes.

I had the biggest pout on my face in the pictures from that Christmas. Luckily, my dad had bought me this huge Donatello plush toy (that was bigger than me) and my grandpa got me a hockey stick. It was a Christmas miracle.

The female members of my family were always trying to reverse my intense Tom Boy-ishness so one year (when I was 5) my aunt, my mum, and my grandmother bought me nothing but Barbies, dolls, and those horrible toy janitoral broom and mop sets and toy dishes.

I had the biggest pout on my face in the pictures from that Christmas. Luckily, my dad had bought me this huge Donatello plush toy (that was bigger than me) and my grandpa got me a hockey stick. It was a Christmas miracle.

Not a Christmas story:
This year, on my 22nd Hanukkah, I was told that people buy gifts for the holiday. I was surprised and said I always received only some chocolate coins on Hanukkah... Apparently my parents deceived me all these years and I NEVER got a present. Heck, I didn't even know I was supposed to get gifts! :(

My parents weren't loaded, but we got plenty of gifts for X-Mas. One year however, all I got for X-Mas was a puppy. Many of you will argue that this was a great gift. And I did love that dog. But there's one thing I'm leaving out. I was 17 and a senior in high school. Who the fuck gives a high school senior a puppy for X-Mas? And that's pretty much ALL I got! WTF? I was off for Basic Training and college the next summer. I was basically out of the house in 6 months. The dog really ended up being my Dad's pet. Seriously, I think my parents were just fucking with me for being so excited that I was finally getting ready to leave home.

My absolute worst Christmas gift was not a gift for me. It was, in fact, a gift for my younger brother. So while the gift part was his, the absolute worst part was mine.

When he was about four years old, my parents got him a set of cars. Police cars, Firetrucks, construction vehicles etc. Now, normally, that wouldn't bother me in the slightest. However, these particular cars and trucks had working sirens. Police sirens, fire engine sirens, the beep beep beep noise that the construction trucks make when they back up.

It was MISERABLE. He would play with them ALL THE TIME. Every waking minute of my life was filled with howling sirens and beeping dump trucks. It would drive a saint to fratricide.

So, after several days of this, my older sibs and I decided that something needed to be done. We couldn't justify destroying or hiding his favorite Christmas gift. So, I distracted my youngest brother, and the other four of my siblings took his trucks, went into the woods in the back yard and held down the noise buttons on the toys until the batteries ran out. It took all four of them TWO HOURS of playing the noises nonstop.

Then the other four came back, replaced the toys and we all acted like we were very sad for him when he discovered that he had run down the batteries on his cars.

To this day he is unaware of our conspiracy against him, and his trucks. I think it is better this way.

My parents never bought him toys that made noise ever again.

Last year, the only year of my adult life I was in a relationship, I asked for 2 things: A Colbert Christmas and a TARDIS USB port. That was it. Both were easily found with even the slightest bit of effort on the jerk's part.

What did I get? A Harlequin romance (I have never read a single romance novel, in life), a DVD on learning how to juggle, and a day planner...from 2007. All of these items were purchased in 1 go from a discount table at a discount shop in an outlet mall. How do I know this, you may ask? Because not only didn't he bother to take the tags off, he bragged about how he'd spent less than 1/4 of the $50 limit we'd set for gifts!

I tried to put a brave face on it, but since I spent most of the Christmas money my parents sent me on gifts for him, I felt a little bit like shit.