I’ve written before about the worst Christmas present I ever received, but I have no expectation that any of you are aware of the vast majority of things I’ve written, so I will retell the story today.
Thanks for the great Xmas reality story. mine was quite different. My Grandmother had rich boyfriend; Google said he was the first Black millionaire in the U.S..So got everything I could think of I wrote on my list. I'd get every hour to ask if Santa Claus had come. Of course I was told:"he is not coming until you go to sleep"
Then at last the coaco and brownies were from the kitchen table. It was like department store. I was thrilled. And I always remembered my birthday would be small in gifts. So Xmas was like my birthday too. As an adult I asked my mom about it.She told it was mainly my Grandmother that did it. As an adult I still love being my Grandmother's only princess granddaughter. I still love all magic she brought to my life, and love her too. I know she was the best grandmother the Almighty created . The toys really worked. I've read that adults still believe in Santa. When I was about not to believe in Santa, I met the real Santa at Sterling, Kinder, Davis'. So I still believe in Santa too. I think all the kids behind me in line believe too. Merry Christmas; Celebrating the 12 days of Xmas. Happy New Year ! B.A.R .
Funny: I wanted an EZ Bake oven, but in our house we weren't allowed to ask for what we wanted. Ironically, I did get the accessory pack that went with the oven, but no EZ Bake oven.
People buying what THEY want for and yes, what they want from others. Even parents.
I am troubled however…your 70’s version had 2 lightbulbs? Am I understanding this correctly? Because my 60’s version (1964 I think) had just ONE. My brownies took an hour to bake (but were fucking delicious). I made the apple pie and the chocolate cake and that was it. By New Year’s it was a forgotten lump of plastic, all included mixes, gone. By the next Christmas (we weren’t Jewish btw, well, only 1/8th) it was Barbie’s Malibu House in the big box. I take it your Moms didn’t bother with that one. 😉 Happy New Year (hey one can hope…) MIB!!!
My mom was a little more on the nose. She left dad for the baby sitter. They never were a couple after the divorce but she was around. Showed me Rocky Horror when I was 11.
I think this mis-gifting happens to everyone. One year I asked for a doll house, by which I meant one of those cool wooden ones full of tiny furniture. Apparently I didn’t make that clear to my parents, not that they would have obliged. I knew where my parents kept the presents before I he holiday as well. But I didn’t find any doll house.
On Christmas morning my sister and I came downstairs and there was this huge metal doll house with furniture painted on the walls inside the house. I was completely disappointed, until I noticed the tag from Santa. It was for my sister! So even though it would have disappointed me, I was crushed by the totality of the mistakes. I don’t think I ever really recovered from the betrayal. I actually found myself remembering it several days ago, as happens when you get old, and still felt sad about it. Only now I realize how extraordinarily expensive the doll house I wanted would have been and know my parents could not have afforded it. Also my father just didn’t have an eye for quality of anything that wasn’t photographic or sound equipment. He was a nerdy guy. So my entire thesis is based on just not knowing any better.
My worst Christmas present EVER, was a basket of toiletries, in my late 20s. My sister was well off, had bought matching Ugg slippers for my mom, sister and herself, and my present was obviously taken from her extra bathroom stash of personal products (legit, not for my hair type, but hers!).
It wasn’t the effort or cost, it was this unspoken concern that she may not have wanted for me to be invited that year. This sister had previously given some of my most favored gifts, because they were so thoughtful or beyond my single mom’s budget. We don’t celebrate together anymore. Sucks that was one of the only times I got to rock my nephew to sleep, to Nirvana’s Drain You as my lullaby vocal stylizations.
Fuck, she gave me all these unwanted items from her house, now that I think about it. I still have these curtain panels. They are thick as fuck and I love the paisley reversible print. I am in a Christmas nostalgia memory hole, wowzers.
For a few years my father was a single parent, he spent many hours working and I was a latch key kid. When I was eleven he tried to find something to occupy my time after school and signed me up for the tennis club at my school. After work one day he rushed into Kmart and grabbed the first racquet he saw.
Ok, I have a confession to make: I secretly wanted the EZ-Bake Oven. I say "secretly" because there's no way in hell I was going to actually ask for a girl's toy. I had too much pride as a boy for that—not to mention an asshole of an older brother who'd have never let me hear the end of it.
But man, the idea that I could bake myself a chocolate cake whenever I wanted sure was seductive. I mean, I'm sure it would have ended up being more work than I'd have cared for. But then again, it's possible I'd have really taken to it—which would be worse, because I have an obsessive personality.
So once the initial packets of mix had been used up, I'd have had to figure out how to replace them with actual ingredients, leading to me learning the basics of baking, and then before long using the real oven to make cakes, which probably would have seen me becoming the house's official cake-master, expected to provide cakes for birthdays and all other such cake-having special occasions, so that I'd have grown up a chubby little cake-snarfing doughboy, only to undergo a dramatic detox in my college years as I focused on getting in shape so I could attract girls, but then I'd have become the guy at the office who, when someone's having a birthday and everyone's like, "Ooh cake! There's cake!" is like, "Nah, that's ok, I gave that stuff up", except there's just sooo many birthdays and sooo much cake, and then one day I'm like, "Oh maybe just a little ..." and then I'm off the wagon, and I show up at parties with big elaborate cakes and even once it's gone I'm still eating the fucking fondet like it's a worm in a bottle of mezcal, and soon I end up getting fired from my job for spending all my time streaming episodes of Cake Boss and Ace of Cakes, and I wind up homeless and peniless and the cops find me digging through the dumpster behind the Cake Cottage sucking on discarded tubes of deco-gel.
So don't feel bad, Michael. The EZ-Bake Oven would have ruined my life, and perhaps yours too.
Funny! I am guessing most of us have some sort of Christmas/Chanukah disaster story, either as a parent or a child, or both. It's just that kind of holiday.
Thanks for the great Xmas reality story. mine was quite different. My Grandmother had rich boyfriend; Google said he was the first Black millionaire in the U.S..So got everything I could think of I wrote on my list. I'd get every hour to ask if Santa Claus had come. Of course I was told:"he is not coming until you go to sleep"
Then at last the coaco and brownies were from the kitchen table. It was like department store. I was thrilled. And I always remembered my birthday would be small in gifts. So Xmas was like my birthday too. As an adult I asked my mom about it.She told it was mainly my Grandmother that did it. As an adult I still love being my Grandmother's only princess granddaughter. I still love all magic she brought to my life, and love her too. I know she was the best grandmother the Almighty created . The toys really worked. I've read that adults still believe in Santa. When I was about not to believe in Santa, I met the real Santa at Sterling, Kinder, Davis'. So I still believe in Santa too. I think all the kids behind me in line believe too. Merry Christmas; Celebrating the 12 days of Xmas. Happy New Year ! B.A.R .
I want to be a Black millionaire!
P.S. It was Sterling, Linder, Davis; Paul McCartney married their granddaughter.
Funny: I wanted an EZ Bake oven, but in our house we weren't allowed to ask for what we wanted. Ironically, I did get the accessory pack that went with the oven, but no EZ Bake oven.
People buying what THEY want for and yes, what they want from others. Even parents.
I am troubled however…your 70’s version had 2 lightbulbs? Am I understanding this correctly? Because my 60’s version (1964 I think) had just ONE. My brownies took an hour to bake (but were fucking delicious). I made the apple pie and the chocolate cake and that was it. By New Year’s it was a forgotten lump of plastic, all included mixes, gone. By the next Christmas (we weren’t Jewish btw, well, only 1/8th) it was Barbie’s Malibu House in the big box. I take it your Moms didn’t bother with that one. 😉 Happy New Year (hey one can hope…) MIB!!!
My mom was a little more on the nose. She left dad for the baby sitter. They never were a couple after the divorce but she was around. Showed me Rocky Horror when I was 11.
I think this mis-gifting happens to everyone. One year I asked for a doll house, by which I meant one of those cool wooden ones full of tiny furniture. Apparently I didn’t make that clear to my parents, not that they would have obliged. I knew where my parents kept the presents before I he holiday as well. But I didn’t find any doll house.
On Christmas morning my sister and I came downstairs and there was this huge metal doll house with furniture painted on the walls inside the house. I was completely disappointed, until I noticed the tag from Santa. It was for my sister! So even though it would have disappointed me, I was crushed by the totality of the mistakes. I don’t think I ever really recovered from the betrayal. I actually found myself remembering it several days ago, as happens when you get old, and still felt sad about it. Only now I realize how extraordinarily expensive the doll house I wanted would have been and know my parents could not have afforded it. Also my father just didn’t have an eye for quality of anything that wasn’t photographic or sound equipment. He was a nerdy guy. So my entire thesis is based on just not knowing any better.
My worst Christmas present EVER, was a basket of toiletries, in my late 20s. My sister was well off, had bought matching Ugg slippers for my mom, sister and herself, and my present was obviously taken from her extra bathroom stash of personal products (legit, not for my hair type, but hers!).
It wasn’t the effort or cost, it was this unspoken concern that she may not have wanted for me to be invited that year. This sister had previously given some of my most favored gifts, because they were so thoughtful or beyond my single mom’s budget. We don’t celebrate together anymore. Sucks that was one of the only times I got to rock my nephew to sleep, to Nirvana’s Drain You as my lullaby vocal stylizations.
Fuck, she gave me all these unwanted items from her house, now that I think about it. I still have these curtain panels. They are thick as fuck and I love the paisley reversible print. I am in a Christmas nostalgia memory hole, wowzers.
Xmas is so loaded with expectations for everyone. It never fails to disappoint me.
For a few years my father was a single parent, he spent many hours working and I was a latch key kid. When I was eleven he tried to find something to occupy my time after school and signed me up for the tennis club at my school. After work one day he rushed into Kmart and grabbed the first racquet he saw.
Billie Jean King signature model.
I never went to tennis club.
I now understand the effort but....
Thanks for the laugh! 😂
Ok, I have a confession to make: I secretly wanted the EZ-Bake Oven. I say "secretly" because there's no way in hell I was going to actually ask for a girl's toy. I had too much pride as a boy for that—not to mention an asshole of an older brother who'd have never let me hear the end of it.
But man, the idea that I could bake myself a chocolate cake whenever I wanted sure was seductive. I mean, I'm sure it would have ended up being more work than I'd have cared for. But then again, it's possible I'd have really taken to it—which would be worse, because I have an obsessive personality.
So once the initial packets of mix had been used up, I'd have had to figure out how to replace them with actual ingredients, leading to me learning the basics of baking, and then before long using the real oven to make cakes, which probably would have seen me becoming the house's official cake-master, expected to provide cakes for birthdays and all other such cake-having special occasions, so that I'd have grown up a chubby little cake-snarfing doughboy, only to undergo a dramatic detox in my college years as I focused on getting in shape so I could attract girls, but then I'd have become the guy at the office who, when someone's having a birthday and everyone's like, "Ooh cake! There's cake!" is like, "Nah, that's ok, I gave that stuff up", except there's just sooo many birthdays and sooo much cake, and then one day I'm like, "Oh maybe just a little ..." and then I'm off the wagon, and I show up at parties with big elaborate cakes and even once it's gone I'm still eating the fucking fondet like it's a worm in a bottle of mezcal, and soon I end up getting fired from my job for spending all my time streaming episodes of Cake Boss and Ace of Cakes, and I wind up homeless and peniless and the cops find me digging through the dumpster behind the Cake Cottage sucking on discarded tubes of deco-gel.
So don't feel bad, Michael. The EZ-Bake Oven would have ruined my life, and perhaps yours too.
Thank you. I needed this. The last thing I want is to become an EZ Bake junkie.
Great article, Michael! I especially love the ones in which you mention your Mom.
Of course. I love to mention her.
I thought it was a really great present when my mom bought one of those – because it was a present for my sisters, and I got to eat all the cakes.
Funny! I am guessing most of us have some sort of Christmas/Chanukah disaster story, either as a parent or a child, or both. It's just that kind of holiday.
I lol’d.
Be careful: the Children of the Corn grew up and now they run the local bakery.
A great story. Both funny and sad!