Not to sound ungrateful, but what's the point of making Christmas lists today? There's this line in "A Charlie Brown Christmas" where Lucy complains that she never gets what she really wants for Christmas: real estate. Lucy's a bit of an extreme example, but in today's age of Amazon Wish Lists and gift registries at every store imaginable, holiday shopping should get easier and for once not be the Olympic-worthy, therapy-inducing race to the finish line it is every holiday season.

When I was little, Christmas lists were a smorgasbord of opportunities for parents to find something we wanted. Because we were kids and Santa was still real, we wrote the most ludicrous shit on these things, knowing damn well that no matter how magical jolly old St. Nick was, the pony wasn't going to happen. But it gave our parents mile-long lists of stuff to choose from, and if we didn't get "the must-have" toy, chances were good we'd get something neat that more than made up for it.

These days, Christmas lists are made year round: they're called Wish Lists and almost every e-commerce website has one. I use mine as a checklist of books to read and movies to see. Sure, there's stuff on there I actually want as a gift, but there's stuff on there I doubt seriously anyone would buy me. I can't see Mom buying me "The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio" for my birthday. (On second thought, she might. I know how much she wants grandkids. Though I should probably explain to her that blowjobs aren't how you get them.)

To compete with Wish Lists, most stores have gift registries now. Stores that you wouldn't think would have them, like Lowes Home Improvement and auto parts stores, have registries. Target is a favorite among my friends. Every time someone weds or spawns, I'm there with my registry printout and a pile of crap for the happy couple. Nothing says "I care" like frying pan and a baby wipe warmer, let me tell you.

Wish lists and registries ought to make it easier to buy for people, but somehow people forgot what the Christmas List is for. We register for things, fill up our Wish Lists, then direct family and friends to them and say, "Anything off here would be great!" And then they go out and buy some god-awful thing and not even close to what you asked for, even though there was a picture of the item right next to its fucking description. And the giver wheedles, "Hope you like it--I didn't know what you wanted." And of course, we don't want to seem ungrateful or rude, so we smile and say thank you and wonder what we could get for it at a yard sale.

I'm bitter on the gift registry subject, because I have been through the wedding registry process. Registering for your wedding gifts is an estrogen-laden nightmare. You wind up registering for stuff you will never fucking use, like a gravy boat. I've never made gravy in my life--hell, I don't even eat gravy--but I registered for a gravy boat. Why? Because it was in my china pattern.

Our wedding was on January 4, so I had scads of relatives who claimed they wanted to get us stuff off our registry for Christmas. They kept asking, "Have you registered? Where are you registered?" I dragged the soon-to-be-Husband to the store, where we registered for everything: china, everyday plates, glasses, sheets, towels, cookware, the works. We registered right after Thanksgiving, so people had plenty of time to shop.

Then Christmas came. Guess how much stuff came off our registry? Right: nothing.

We received lots of Fiestaware. If you've never seen Fiestaware, it's solid, brightly-colored dinnerware that comes in a different color each year, so it's supposedly collectible. It's dinnerware for the blind or for people who don't care that none of their dishes match.

They thought these dishes were more fun than the ones we'd picked. "Yours are black," they complained. "Who wants black dishes? These are bright! They're colorful! And they're collectible!"

To which I replied, "I don't collect dishes. I put food on them. I registered for the dishes I wanted. And if no one was going to use the registry, I would not have wasted the Husband's and my entire Saturday picking stuff out. We had other things to do, but YOU wanted us to register, so we DID. Forgive me if I seem DISPLEASED."

My mother-in-law took it well, and replaced all the Fiestaware we got with a 20-piece set of the dinnerware we registered for, which are indeed black and look fabulous and we are still using and will replace only when so much of it has gotten broken over the years that we are eating dinner off the teacup saucers.

Proof that you can make people happy, if you try.

23-Dec-2003