I was a man of my word. I didn't buy anyone over 18 years of age a single gift this year.
Sure I bought my nieces, nephews and two kids some Christmas cheer. But that was it.
And guess what? Nobody's pissed off. In fact, I think people are actually happy that they didn't have to buy me anything either.
And just like Kramer shunning boxers and underwear for nothing under his pants, I'm loving every minute of it.
This holiday season, I had a blast roaming through the aisles of Target, Home Depot, WalMart and Barnes & Noble stress-free. I didn't have to search the CD aisles looking for Celine Dion's Greatest Hits for my sister-in-law or L.L. Cool J's debut album Radio for my brother.
Did I buy my aunt Chicken Soup for the Soul last year? Does my dad need another box of assorted flashlights? Does Mom really need another sweatshirt emblazoned with Ohio State Mom?
Who fucking cares!
Hard to believe, but I got my wife-to-be wrapped up in the no-holiday-gift-buying frenzy this year. Let me just say, the smile hasn't worn off her face yet. I think she enjoyed focusing strictly on the kids in the family. Hell, I even got a little kick out of hitting the toy stores searching for gifts for the little fuckers.
That was fun.
But buying a Giant Eagle fruitcake for my grandma every single year isn't fun. In fact, I've heard from reliable sources (i.e. my uncle) that grandma cuts off one piece of the fruitcake. Eats it. Than wraps the rest in aluminum foil and hides it deep, down inside the fridge like it was the Lost Ark of the Covenant. Come Springtime the thing probably resembles a Chia-pet.
Look, I know this no-buying-policy may not work for every family. I mean, who wouldn't want an extra screwdriver/socket set or Jerry Garcia tie for Christmas from your great Uncle Pete every single fucking year?
But, for this happy man, I'm going to hang on to this no-gift-over-18-policy for years and years and years to come.
Fuck it, I may even add the policy to birthdays as well. Can't wait to see how many party invitations I'll get after that.
Yep. That's right. Who fucking cares!