Although I am suffering a mall-induced headache, I am happy to say I am finished with my Christmas shopping. I think this is the earliest I've ever gotten it done. To be honest, I hate shopping for gifts. It's much easier to by myself stuff. That's not to say I'm some stingy bastard, just I know what I want...I don't always know what someone else wants or needs.Also, I think gift-giving is a viscous cycle. Earlier this year I felt compelled to give this psuedo-friend of mine a birthday gift because he had given me one for my birthday. I knew he could have cared less if I gave him something or not (we are more or less friends by association) but in the checks and balances of my neurotic brain, I had to get him a gift to settle the score. (Isn't it so silly to think that way?) Anyway, I broke the cycle this year by not announcing my birthday or having a party, so he forgot when it was.

Last night, I was babysat T's 6 year old. While we were at Borders, I let her look around the children's books section. When I told her it was time to go, the Little
Comedienne decided to play a joke. She said, "I don't know who you are! You aren't my daddy."

For a split second I was mortified, then I deadpanned "Whatever Shecky. Let's go."