One of the great things about being a kid is that you can ask for the most ridiculous crap for Christmas. You have no problems writing down that you’d like a laser gun, a pack of Big League Chew and a new baby brother. My list used to look something like this:
I’d like to marry Jonathan Taylor Thomas for Christmas. I’d also like a puppy. Can you give me bigger boobs? Bigger than the ones that jerk Jillian has. Oh, and some of those shoes that turn into skates because I don’t look like a big enough asshole normally.
As you get older, and the suckage of adulthood sets in, you start asking for more practical gifts. Now, my list looks something like this:
Dear Mom & Dad,
I need a new set of dishes and silverware. I also just ran out of my hair serum and face lotion. It’s getting pretty cold here so some winter socks would be nice. I also need towels and meatballs so a gift certificate to Ikea is handy. If all else fails, cash is good. That way I can pay off the loan shark who is threatening to bust my knee caps.