Every year I go to my dad's house in Palm Beach, Florida for Christmas. And every year, when it comes to Christmas presents on my dad’s side of the family, no one is safe.
Last year, I received a book about the Aztecs and an Andy Warhol pop box from my uncle. From my aunt, I got a multi-colored Bill Cosby sweater that looks like a quilt, and a mini blow-up doll. My stepmother got a book on bird mating.
Last year, I received a book about the Aztecs and an Andy Warhol pop box from my uncle. From my aunt, I got a multi-colored Bill Cosby sweater that looks like a quilt, and a mini blow-up doll. My stepmother got a book on bird mating.
That said, the following is a re-enactment of what occurred over my Thanksgiving break:
The family sits around the patio enjoying cocktails before Thanksgiving dinner. Auntie enters the room, equipped with wrapped gift boxes. She passes one to me and one to my younger sister.
Auntie: I brought your Christmas presents since I won’t see you next month. Open them! (Smiles expectantly.)
My sister and I exchanged frightened looks. We open the gifts. The first thing I see is a large black bottle with the label “Sexiest Fantasies” on it. Things are looking up.
Me: Wow, sexiest fantasies body spray. Cool. (Like an idiot, I announce this to the whole room.)
I look to my left. My little sister has received the same bottle. I continue digging through the box and uncover a small glass perfume bottle in the shape of a naked woman. My sister receives one with the status of liberty placed on top. She lives in New York. This makes sense, I guess.
Me: Wow, I've never seen a perfume bottle with boobs. Thanks, Auntie.
Sister: Um, mine’s actually cologne.
Sister attempts to cover up this ungrateful statement by digging further through the box and handing the sex toys to our little brother, than attempts to pretend she didn’t just attempt to do that.
We keep digging. The next item I remove is a small pink box with the label “Titillation lib balm” scrawled on it, and a white tube with the label “Edible body bling.”
Me: Ooo, titillation lib balm and edible body bling. Nice. (Again, I announce this. I might as well say, please insert creepy inappropriate daughter/stepdaughter/grandaughter titillating-body-bling mental image here.)
Auntie: Yeah, it’s honey vanilla flavored too. (Winks at me.)
Dad casually leaves the room.
Sister: Why does it say on the bottle “’To book parties, please call Felicia?’ Did you get these at a sex toy party?”
Auntie: Oh, yes. And these body sprays have pheromones in them. Do you girls know what pheromones do to men?
Grandpa casually leaves the room.
Me: Oh yeah. I got a vanilla pheremone spray at my last sex toy party.
Sister: This is great. Ryan will love these.
Stepmom suddenly becomes very interested in the ceiling tile patterns.
The rest of the afternoon is spent taste-testing the honey vanilla dust, trying to figure out why they refer to lotion as "body sauce," and avoiding dad, until it’s time to eat.
I think things are looking up in the family present department.
I think when sex toys and paternal parentals are in the same room, things get real weird, real quick.
I think my aunt thinks my sister and I are whores.
(photo creds: walmart.com)
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