ProseWriting

I’m Worried That Buy Things For Curtis Day Is Becoming Not Consumerist Enough

We have lost sight of the true meaning of Buy Things For Curtis Day. This is NOT a difficult holiday to figure out. Let’s keep our eyes on the ball, huh? It is, first off, not a day about love. I don’t know who started that rumor, but whoever did will be dealt with severely. Buy Things For Curtis Day is not one of those holidays like “Halloween” or “Easter,” in which the name doesn’t tell you what the holiday is about. Buy Things For Curtis Day is about, as you would expect, buying things for Curtis (me). The name of the holiday also serves as the directions on how to celebrate the holiday. This really could not be more simple: BUY THINGS FOR CURTIS DAY.

Note that I say it’s about buying “things.” Things are tangible. Things can be purchased. I don’t need, as many of you have suggested, “some one-on-one time” or to “stop being so materialistic.” I need actual, real objects. I did my part for Buy Things For Curtis Day by purchasing some new shelves. Now you have to do your part by giving me expensive, tasteful objects to put on those shelves.

First off: I cannot put a hug on a shelf. I shouldn’t even need to say that, but giving me a hug doesn’t count as a gift. So try again, Mom. You know what’s as large as a hug? A high-definition TV. And I can’t watch DVDs on a hug.

Now that we’ve established that basic fact about Buy Things For Curtis Day (to repeat: things, not ideas), let’s talk about what makes a decent gift.

I do not need handmade soaps. I have plenty of normal soaps. And by plenty, I mean two. I have one soap for washing my hands, and one soap for washing everything else. Will those bars run out one day? Sure. But when that happens, I will use the minimal amount of money it takes to buy soap, and buy actual, real soap. So although I appreciate that for some reason you thought a bar of soap with a shell inside of it is “neat,” I really don’t want to be scraped and cut by the random piece of shit you decided to covered in craft-store soap. Instead of soap, how about a helicopter landing pad? That’s a great gift for two reasons: 1) I’ll always think of you whenever I pass my helicopter landing pad. 2) You’ve set yourself up perfectly to get me a great gift on next year’s Buy Things For Curtis Day. (Hint: I need something to land on that helicopter landing pad!)

A coupon is not a gift. It’s nice that you went through all the trouble of making this cutesy piece of shit on construction paper, but a coupon for “a week of taking out the trash without being askd [sic]” is not a gift. You’re supposed to take out the trash anyway, Brian. It’s what your mother and I pay you an allowance for. So take that allowance, go to the store, and buy me an actual goddamned gift. If you are unsure of what to buy, I have created Buy Things For Curtis Day registries at most major stores. Ask the manager; he probably has a copy in the break room.

Finally, I am an not, nor have I ever been, particularly interested in windmills. Apparently at some point I made an offhand remark about windmills being “cool,” which has spread like a virus. I have enough windmill key chains, coffee table books, pictures, coasters, playing cards, doilies, documentaries, and other assorted knickknacks, tchotchkes, gewgaws, and pieces of crap for a lifetime. I am NOT interested in windmills. And Grandma, although I appreciate the wooden clogs you bought me last year, you were off by a factor of 2. If you need assistance, please call the Buy Things For Curtis Day Hotline, which is also my cell phone number.

So let’s get this shit together. If we work hard, we can make Buy Things For Curtis Day commercial again.

Wishing you all the best during this season of giving,
Curtis Retherford.

PS: I also accept gift cards to non-lame stores.

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