UCGs and Other Random Facts

Before I begin to ramble, a couple of not terribly important things:

Firstly, I received a notification via email that I have officially reached the 1000 hit mark (this number reflects all the hits between June when I started tracking and now). Who knew my Mom and Dad were online so often?

Nextly, I'm just awful at remembering birthdays and anniversaries (I know how old I am, but only because I can do basic subtraction. 2008 minus 1981, carry the 3...wait. That's not right.) Being such crap at remembering these things, I am not at all surprised to announce that I missed my own Blog-versary on January 4th. Happy blog-versary to me! It's been one year of incredibly sporadic posts about things no one but me gives a goat turd about. Gives me a deranged sense of accomplishment really.

But neither of these insignificant items is what I wish to talk about today. What I wish to talk about is something that makes me, Scroogesquely, heave a sigh of relief when the holidays are finally over. UCGs. That's right. Unexpected Christmas Gifts. Please note that the gifts in question do not come from close friends or family members. Those you should see coming and reciprocate, unless you are a total jerk (like me). I am referring to totally unexpected gifts. Ninja-like gifts that leap from the shadows and nearly cause you to soil yourself. You know the kind I'm talking about.

There's a knock at the door. You wonder who it is. You're not expecting anyone. All the kids are off mugging old ladies, making origami from their homework, or watching mostly inappropriate shows in the basement. Your significant other is deeply engrossed in a sporting event of some kind. Yes, everyone accounted for.

You open the door, and there it is. A shiny and lovingly-wrapped parcel, grasped in the mitten-ed hands of a friend, neighbor, or co-worker, face flushed red with seasonal cheer and cold.

"Hi!" They shriek excitedly. "I just wanted to drop this by for you!" They extend the package to you. You stammer, you stutter. You forget to invite them in.
"Oh, thanks," you manage awkwardly. They blink at you. You blink at them. You frantically scan the nearby table for something that even remotely resembles a gift that you can present in return.

"Would you care for a fish stick?" You mumble stupidly.
"Oh no, I'm good" they say, patting their festively be-sweatered stomach. An awkward silence follows. "Well, I need to be on my way," they chuckle nervously.
"Yeah, sure. And...erm...thanks for...this," you say, feeling like the world's crappiest crap-hole.

This happens to me every year. I suck at sending Christmas cards. I don't make cutesy things to hand out to friends, let alone near acquaintances. It's not that I never think about it. I just never think about it in time. An idea lodges in the back of my muddled brain and only squeezes out until there is no time and no resources to make it happen. As a result, I have become utterly paranoid at avoiding these sorts of gift-givers at all costs. For an example of one of these interactions, please peruse the dramatization below:

*Phone rings, Cyndi looks uncertainly at a number that looks vaguely familiar and answers.

Cyndi: "Hello?"
Gifter: "Hey there! I was just wondering when I could stop by your house?"
Cyndi: *Cyndi recognizes work acquaintance's voice. Said acquaintance lives nearby as was discovered by a recent water cooler conversation. "Stop by? Why?"
Gifter: "I just wanted to drop something off to you."
Cyndi: "I'm sorry? Did I leave something at work?"
Gifter: "No, I just got you a little something for Christmas. It's not much but..."
Cyndi: "Oh no. You really don't need to do that."
Gifter: "I know I don't need to but I wanted to just..."
Cyndi: "No really, I'm good. Thanks though."
Gifter: "Look, it's really not anything big. Just tell me when you'll be around."
Cyndi: "You know, it's really busy right now and all. I'm just not sure when I'll be home. Probably you should just give it to someone else."
Gifter: "But the gift has your name engraved on it. I don't know any other Cyndies. Much less Cyndies that spell their names Cy..."
Cyndi: "You could change it. Maybe just scratch some of the letters out..."
Gifter: "Look. I could just swing by and leave it on your porch."
Cyndi: "Er...umm...that may not be such a good idea."
Gifter: "Why not?"
Cyndi: "Tapeworms."
Gifter: "Excuse me?"
Cyndi: "I have a tapeworm. They might be contagious within a 20 foot proximity. In fact, that's why I won't be around tonight. I need to uh, get it removed."
Gifter: "Don't they just give you pills for that?"
Cyndi: "It's a new breed of tapeworm, it's developed an immunity to medication.It's a...um, really big tapeworm. Highly evolved."
Gifter: "So how are they going get it out?"
Cyndi: "Um, make it feel unwelcome?"
Gifter: "Sorry?"
Cyndi: "Yeah, these new tapeworms are really sensitive. I think they said something about getting down near my abdomen and hinting about George having overstayed his welcome."
Gifter: "George?"
Cyndi: "I named him."
Gifter: "Will you be at work tomorrow?"
Cyndi: "Gosh darn it no. I'm done for the year."
GIfter: "Cool, I'll just leave it on your desk."
Cyndi: "Piss!"
Gifter: "Excuse me?"
Cyndi: "Hiss! Meow meow," laughs shrilly, "I was just talking to my cat."
Gifter: "Oh, that's em...nice. Well anyway, I hope you like the gift."
Cyndi: "Thanks a bunch."

Cyndi