Bingo in Smoking

As The Eels would say, Christmas is going to the dogs. Especially in a time of economic crisis, when commercial enthusiasm is elevated to Seusslike proportions in order to mask the panic, we must ask ourselves two questions:

1. Is it ever okay to re-gift?
2. What about if we don’t get caught?

Since moving to the UK, I have become a merciless re-gifter. My parents have a huge hoarding problem which has over the years created the need for an attic, a large-ish storage shed, a poolhouse and the largest hangar at the local airport where my dad is a hobby pilot. (The hangar itself is a coveted piece of real estate, which I imagine was won in a Bloody Knuckles tournament.)

You know when you move in with someone and one person has all the stuff? Before the British Invasion, I was that person. I remember before going to college talking to my then-future-roommate, Becca, on the phone and discussing who would bring what. I agreed to bring a microwave (Target: $35) and she would bring the refrigerator. Dad, afraid that Becca would bring one of inadequate size, bought an additional fridge. (“What if she brings one of those tiny ones without any freezer space?” he asked.)

[Epilogue: Becca did bring "one of those tiny ones" and not only filled hers but half of mine. She also did not bring a computer, any crates or other storage-type pieces, or furniture. She did, however, bring every piece of clothing manufactured since the Reagan administration and a 90 lb. box of shoes.]

As my accommodation expanded eventually to a 2-bed/1.5-bath/2-story condo with garage, so did my array of possessions. Every Christmas I would go home and return with mountains of merch with which to festoon my living quarters and positively impact my life.

Shortly after arriving in London, it was apparent that I had no choice but to adopt a lifestyle which matched the size of my accommodation. I asked for very little for Christmas that year and every year since.

But somehow I mysteriously end up with all this shiznit for which I have absolutely no use. In these dire circumstances, it only makes sense to spread the love.

For fear of being disclosing any past and near future incidents of re-gifting, I hesitate to list any specific examples. I’m sure that past victims have been none the wiser and simply thought their gift(s) were stupid; however, I’m confident that they found the gift(s) no more stupid than I did the first time around. As my good friend Jason Holzhausen said in a letter enclosed with my unsigned wedding card: “I understand that this card is stupid. I’ve even left this card blank so that you can pass it on to another unsuspecting couple. You know…pass the stupid around.”

I encourage you to regale me with tales of your own re-gifting antics. Best story wins a special prize (which may or may not be a year or more old).