Fortunately, most of the people who gave me the gift of, uh…"gifts" are regular readers. So, without the handicap of having to fake a positive reaction to your faces, now you can all know what I really thought of this year's haul.
The 10-Speed Bike/Optimus Prime Gift of the Year Award
Honoring the anniversary of the booty from my 10th birthday which, to this day, has never been topped, Mrs. Bootleg came about as close as one can. In conjunction/cahoots with Friend of the Bootleg, "That Nick'a Guy", the wife bought me a plane ticket to the east coast. The highlight of the long weekend will be my first trip to Yankee Stadium to watch the New York Yankees play my Oakland A's on Saturday, June 30.
Not only has Mrs. Bootleg signed off on this, but she's…not…coming! I dare say this is the greatest kitchen pass ever procured. Do they still wear red and black lumberjacks with the hat to match out there? I'm prepared, if they do. And, NYC is the home of my former employers at Inside Pulse. Is Widro real or imaginary? Now, the world will know! It's my fervent hope that some New York nightlife will be in the cards, if only so me and Nick'a can try to kick over buildings at 3:00AM like Daz and Kurupt in that New York, New York video.
The lovely wife of TBG poster, Ron Mexico, baked a few dozen oatmeal cookies (they're my favorite, ladies!) boxed 'em up and sent them across the country to me. They arrived last Thursday and were gone by sunrise on Sunday. After all these years, Mrs. Bootleg's claim that "homemade" cookies only come from phallic tubes of Pillsbury goo appears to be untrue. Hey, I'm as shocked as you.
Speaking of the wife, there was a little bit of controversy at Stately Cameron Manor on Friday. Several of the P.Y.T.s at my j-o-b brought me bottles of beer, bourbon and other alcoholic endeavors. These women…and I hope you'll forgive the generalization…have mostly maintained their inherent hotness and fresh-out-the-box bodies that have yet to be beat up by bringing babies into this world. As the wife sneered, "Do you get them gifts?" Do flowers count?
Birthday Gifts? More like "Worst-day Gifts"!
Not every gift deserved to be labeled "Goodness". There was the ubiquitous signed-by-the-entire-office birthday card. Whenever these get passed around, I always write the funniest, cruelest and/or most sarcastic comment for the birthday boy/girl. Trust me, I'm not bragging, it's just that most of my co-workers are in their late 40s or early 50s. Their funny bones have decalcified and turned into dust. So, with my reputation, everyone in the office tried to "write like Aaron" on my card. Here's a sampling:
"You're almost old enough to play for the (Oakland) Raiders!"
"You don't look a day over 50!"
"Just one more year until you get the senior discount at Denny's!"
On Saturday, The Cam Fam drove up to my mom' house for what will certainly be the last double birthday party for me and my twin brother. There were numbered candles, the Happy Birthday song and all other kinds of reverie usually reserved for children.
And, if anyone knows your likes and dislikes, it's gotta be your momma, right? Now, back in my youth, I suffered from what today is called "childhood obesity". There was only so much one could hide in a pair of Sears' Toughskins jeans (size: "husky"). Anyways, one of the few foods I could never stand was coconut. I still don't like it. So, what does my mom serve? A homemade coconut cake.
Even better, the coconut shavings completely covered the six inches of cream cheese frosting that avalanched the overcooked white cake within.
The Snake Through the Skull T-Shirt Worst Gift of the Year Award
My mom carried her .000 average for the afternoon right into the evening with exhibit A for "it's the thought that counts". This "snake through the skull" t-shirt is the latest, annual entry in her one-woman game to get me a sh*ttier gift than the year before: