Over the summer my Aunt Anne almost burned down her house. She started preheating the oven without checking to make sure it was empty — it wasn’t, there were some plastic tubs inside. Long story short, the fire department had to come out and the kitchen was covered in that extinguisher residue and the whole place smelled like smoke.
My brilliant Christmas gift for her and my uncle: a gift-certificate to Home Depot and a photo of their fire extinguisher section.
Cruel? Mean? No, funny. Or, “ironic” if you believe Alannis Morisette.
***
Speaking of gifts, Monday I took a few minutes at work to run to the liquor store at the other end of the shopping center. I wanted to buy a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Creme for A. to sort of mend our bridge (I also got Steve a gift, but haven’t had a chance to take it in before tonight). I’d never been in this liquor shop before, and I tell you what, shop owners in this part of the county sure know how to rip off rich alcoholics. The same size bottle of Bailey’s that I bought from the liquor store around the corner from my apartment for $20 was $41.99 here. I settled on an off-brand Irish creme because it was a decent sized bottle for a quarter of the price. I hid it in A.’s locker … hopefully, she finds it and it doesn’t shatter (as its wrapped in a brown paper bag).
***
y’know what a perfect gift would be, for folks driving in the Hunt Valley area? If people around here learned about the concept of the “center lane” and how to properly use it! I hate fucktard retard shitbird motherfuckers who decide to make a left-hand turn across oncoming traffic from … the lefthand lane. Hello, that’s why there’s the center-turning-lane you DIPSHIT! On the bright side, he got really pissed when I — coming up behind him — got into the center-turning-lane and prevented him from making his turn.
Oh well, stupid people finish last.

