Dumb Jul Stories Flashback - God Bless You, Merry Idiot

For the past few years, I've attended Sam's company's Christmas party. Unlike my company's shindig (spouses not permitted to attend, drunken secretaries shrieking "I Will Survive"), their holiday get-together is usually pretty fun. Last year, the party featured a modified version of a Pollyanna called a "Yankee Swap". It works thusly: everyone brings in a relatively cheap wrapped present. All the presents are deposited in a pile, and everyone's name is put into a hat. When the first person's name is pulled from the hat, they get to choose a present and unwrap it. When the second person's name is pulled, they can choose to either take a new, wrapped present OR to steal the first person's present. Once a decent amount of presents have been opened, the stealing really takes off... during their turn, someone can steal YOUR present, you can then steal someone else's present, and so on. Since last year's Swap was a load of fun (most popular items? A dartboard and a pair of obscene salt 'n pepper shakers), Sam and I decided to participate once again.

Just like before, this year's Swap had several much-coveted gifts. A little video game console and a Lava Lamp were each "stolen" over a dozen times. The most popular item, however, was a Hello Kitty toaster (a marvel of Japanese technology, the toaster even seared a picture of Hello Kitty DIRECTLY ONTO YOUR BREAD). This toaster changed hands practically every round. I'd taken my turn quite early (I stole a Chia Pet shaped like Homer Simpson's head) and no one was interested in stealing it away from me. As a result, I never once possessed the elusive toaster. However, during the last person's turn, the tide changed. This guy had apparently had his eye on my Chia Pet for the entire Swap, and gleefully stole it from me. I could choose to take the last wrapped present (a boring little blue box). However, I could ALSO choose to steal the Hello Kitty toaster... and since an item can be stolen only once per round, that highly silly appliance would be mine FOR GOOD. I knew what I had to do.

I stepped forward through the noisy crowd and proclaimed, "Okay... who's hiding the toaster?"

Although the room was loud and boisterous, no one volunteered Hello Kitty. People were urging me to make a move, and one woman behind me said, "I think you have to take that last wrapped present." "Oh, no I don't," I said, "I can steal something, and I want to steal that toaster!" However, the toaster was nowhere to be found... until I turned around. Sitting on the couch, clutching the toaster, was the daughter of one of Sam's coworkers. The girl was about ten or twelve years old... and happened to be moderately mentally retarded. "Well, honey," said the girl's mom, "If she wants it, you have to give up the toaster." Did you ever have one of those moments when you REALLY need to use some common sense, but your common sense is apparently off in the bathroom reading "Field & Stream"? One of those moments when, in hindsight, the correct choice seemed obvious - "Don't run that red light", "Don't touch that hot stove", "Don't steal toys from retarded children" - and yet, at the time, you were still clueless?

In perhaps the Dumbest move of any Dumb Jul Story, I had one of those moments.

Yes. Although it fills me with shame (and giggling) to think of it, I actually REACHED OUT TO TAKE THE TOASTER. The girl looked sad and confused and began slowly pushing the toaster towards me. It was at that moment that my common sense returned from its little bathroom break and said, "Whoa! Wait just a damned minute here!" "Uh... uh... I can't take your toaster," I sputtered. "Awww!", went the room, their hearts warmed to see that Sam's wife wasn't a complete monster. In lieu of the toaster, I stole another popular item, a five-liter keg of Grolsch beer (amusingly, about the same size as my pregnant belly). The final wrapped present turned out to be a cheapie "Personal Massager" from Walgreen's. Had I stolen the toaster, I would have also inadvertently caused that poor girl to receive a thinly-disguised marital aid as her Yankee Swap gift. Oy gevalt!

Since this is a Christmas Dumb Jul Story, it needs to have a sappy Hallmark moral. So here goes: I hope my astounding idiocy has made everyone remember the true meaning of the season. Christmas isn't all about raging consumerism and eggnog-flavored cappuccino. It's about the precious things in life... things like compassion, sharing, caring for others... and not stealing toys from retarded children in front of all of your husband's coworkers.