As a child, my mother was notorious for NOT getting me things I asked for. She bought whatever she thought I needed. But say I needed a coat and I wanted a particular brand of coat, it wasn't going to happen. The job of getting me what I asked for always fell to my father.
See, my mother and her cousin (they are about 5 years apart so they are practically sisters) pretty much do all their Christmas shopping at Marshalls. So whatever I got, my brother and that cousin's son (who is close in age and size to both of us) got either the same thing or something so similar that we could trade come Christmas day. For example, say I got a shirt and displayed some displeasure with it, surer than shit, it was going to my cousin that evening when he came over for Christmas dinner.
Anyway, after I went to New York University, as a JOKE, I made an old school Christmas list with pictures and store locations and sent it to my parents via the post office. On that list was a Tommy Hilfiger denim shirt similar to one my brother had. This was when Tommy Hilfiger and Polo was a big deal. Seemed like a harmless request at the time.
So Christmas came and I ACTUALLY got the shirt plus a Tommy Hilfiger t-shirt that was nice too. I was thrilled.
Until next Christmas, when I got a Tommy Hilfiger winter coat and some Tommy Hilfiger socks.
And then the next Christmas when I received some particularly hideous Tommy Hilfiger sneakers.
So yes, every year, despite protests from my brother, my mother manages to get we something Tommy Hilfiger.
Now I'm not talking subtle Tommy Hilfiger where someone might say, "Oh, nice shirt. Who makes that?" No, I'm getting something with a big fat Tommy Hilfiger logo.
So this past Christmas, eleven years after that Christmas list, I open my plastic Marshall grab bag (my mother stopped wrapping our presents years ago and now just hands it to us in the store bag), I got some socks, some workout clothes and some Tommy Hilfiger boxers.
It never fails. It could be worse, I guess.
2 comments:
that is hilarious.
That's not nearly as bad as a friend of mine, who ordered bananas foster in front of his mother, who in turn decided he loved bananas and banana flavored things. He recieved college care packages of banana twinkies, banana chips, and a stuffed banana.
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