My Christmas Story: A Very Beanie Christmas

Holy hell, I'm finally back in Jersey. I realize I was absent the past TWO days but what can I say, the holidays insist upon it. Still it was glad to see an old friend once more (at Drag Queen Bingo...yep) so it was worth it.

But I do hate leaving things unfinished and so I give you my final Christmas story...

A few years after the Super Van City incident or the Magic Diary debacle I felt I had outgrown alot of my childish wants. I wasn't looking for just toys anymore, I was looking into investing....into toys. My neighbor friend and I found ourselves beginning to collect and research those cute beanie creatures known as Beanie Babies. We had been given them by our families but when we realized that people were actually collecting them we set to work to see what our current ones were worth. Soon we were joining the masses in every greeting card store, obsessively hunting and buying every $5 animal we could, carefully following the guide of which were collectible and which were not. One day we walked into Intrinsic, a hippie head shop (in the mall, of all places), and in their very back EVEN they had a display full of floppy animals, some even encased for protection of their value: a few of the rabbits and a Garcia, the tied-dyed 60s bear- shocker.

It was around this time that my sister Hill was beginning to shop around for colleges to attend, and so on one trip the whole family decided to go. On one stop in Savannah we were walking around and found a collectibles store. We meandered in, looking at all the toys from bygone years and happened upon a display of Beanie Babies. I suddenly piped in like an expert and began to explain to my fellow family members about which ones were worth anything. I must've impressed them enough because they actually not only withstood my blathering but even incited questions for me to answer.

Eventually the months passed and so did the fever for Beanie Baby mania. I still was happy to read about which were collectible but for the most part I could feel my interest beginning to wain, just, as it happens, in time for Christmas. Months prior I had still been all set for nothing but Beanie Babies, so my mother didn't really even have to bother asking what I wanted for Christmas.

The big day came and after we all had opened several gifts my mother handed me another one. It was a Beanie baby. I plastered my fail-safe smile, the same one I had donned all those previous years, and was told that the rest of my new "collection" was everywhere in the room, so I'd have to go and find them. To my mother it was a cute scavenger-hunt idea, but for me, it was the final humiliation to walk around and fain excitement as I plucked each animal from behind pillows or behind sofas. Finally, my family noticed my lack of enthusiasm and asked the loaded question- "what's wrong?"

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe I had done it AGAIN! Why do these obsessions I have disappear the instant I have it in my hands. I felt terrible but thankfully I didn't have to say anything. My family members have been through this ringer a few time now, and so my sisters chimed in, "she doesn't LIKE them anymore!" My mother, also a veteran to this war, simply smiled, rolled her eyes, and said, "Oh..oh well."

I felt like a total ass, but I was grateful my family could make light of it and rather than crucify me angrily every year henceforth about my fickle Christmases, merely crucify me with jokes and quips. I hope I have grown out of this phase...after 20-something years. But you never know. "Oh, did I say I WANTED an iPad?....ummmmm"

Anyway, hope you enjoyed my tour of the Gifts of Christmas Passed, and hope you have a great holiday, full of embarrassing tales and horror stories about gifts, family, and travel. I'll be back to relate mine sometime next week. Till then, Merry F-ing Christmas everyone!

My Christmas Story: My Magic Diary

Time passed and I became, what I thought was, more sophisticated in my gift-choosing. I felt I had grown beyond just regular toys. Toys were for little kids. I wanted something hip. I wanted something technological. I wanted....a diary.

Not just any diary- the most modern diary that was ever created (at least for the mid 90s). It's been so long since I really tried to remember it, but I assume it did record your thoughts by typing on the keyboard. However, the coolest feature of the thing was claimed to be an address book for storing your friends and family's info AND you could customize a digital image of that person to go with it. It was the most mind-bending technology I had ever encountered...and I wanted one BAD.

SO again, I badger my poor beleaguered parents to get me this thing for Christmas. I tell them it won't be like Super Van City. This is a useful device, not some silly toy. I could use it for school as well as an organizational tool. I'm not sure how I hooked them, but eventually Christmas came and I found myself once again being nudged in the direction of a small wrapped package.

I ripped open the paper, and it had returned...that worrisome pit in my stomach that told me I had just wasted yet ANOTHER Christmas on a gift that wasn't going to last longer than our Christmas tree. I once again plastered the happy and grateful smile on my face as my dad fumbled for batteries. I probably got the first hint that this was a bad gift for me when it required a screwdriver just to open the back and put in the batteries.

Dad handed it back to me and I began flipping through the instructions as to all the things it could do. As I said, I forget alot of these, but I was still mesmerized at the thought of being able to create a doppelganger for for friends and family. So I went to that chapter and began playing with it. After what felt like an eternity I had only completed one person's cartoon-like face. I was getting frustrated that the image didn't look EXACTLY like the person. I decided instead to focus on the basic commands, but as I flipped through the manual I found myself spending more time scratching my head and reading that anything else. I began to find that in the case I need to jot something down or had a thought I never had My Magic Diary nearby or close at hand. Soon, I began to forget all about it entirely, until my parents began to ask what had become of it.

"I'm, um, not sure. Must be around here somewhere," I said sheepishly. Then while rustling through one or the junk drawers my mom finds it and asks me why it's there.

"Don't you like this thing anymore?" she asks. I didn't really have the heart to tell her it's novelty wore off faster than Fruit Stripe Gum's flavor. I tried to play it off, but before long my parents began the running joke of calling any gift they say impractical or useless as the "My Magic Diary."

"Oh you want that? Aw this isn't going to be another 'My Magic Diary' is it?" they'd ask, stifling aggravation first but then blossomed in a good laugh at my expense. I never really did live that one down. From then on, whenever I was looking for a pen in the junk drawer or cleaning out my closets, there it would be. I'd pick it up and see if I could get any of that excitement back that I had for it originally. Instead I would either find myself staring down at a face that was supposed to resemble a friend or else getting frustrated that I need a screwdriver.

Still, as history forever repeats itself, so do I and my Christmas gift obsessions. Read all about The Beanie Baby Incident tomorrow.

My Christmas Story: A Tale of Super Van City

You get the reference right? Ralphie and the BB gun? I had a Christmas like that- gently hinting to my parents about a specific toy I was gunning for, and then when subtly failed having to convince them that it WAS a great toy and perfectly fine for me to have.

In fact, I have had a few Christmases like that. The main differences however in my situations and Ralphie's was that in the end mine didn't exactly end in a happy ending. Instead, they have become the cornerstone to every Christmas gathering with my family, a retelling as traditional as "The Night Before Christmas". So pull up some eggnog and sip a chair...this is the Tale of Super Van City.

Back when Beck and I were kids she used to show me her massive Matchbox car collection. Sound odd for a girl to be interested in cars? Not really. See, Beck's dad was in the car business so she basically grew up around cars and learning much about them. For me, I tended to be more interested in finding a car my Barbie could fit in, but since none of these little cars would do I simply liked to listen to her describe the cars and play with the real opening and closing doors. The more we played with them the less I was focused on Barbie. We especially liked the kind that you could wind up and watch go. My fascination in these "boys toys" emerged enough that year that I was hooked by a commercial for a specific toy: Super Van City.

It wasn't just that it was an entire city that unfolded, complete with road signs and small businesses. It wasn't just that the cars were teeny. It wasn't just that the whole thing folded up into a neat van-shaped carrying case. It was because it was ALL of that. Plus, as we all know, I am pretty much a sucker for any good commercial. I HAD to have this toy, as far as I was concerned. I saw myself impressing Beck by bringing it over, and we could reenact dramatic scenes that required cars...and a city. I was all about it, so when my parents asked what I'd like for Christmas, I said with full certainty- "Super Van City!"

And so the weeks went by with brunches with Santa and school Christmas parties, all the while I kept hoping that this toy that I had build my Christmas around would deliver. At long last, Christmas morning came and when it was my turn to open something my parents excitedly guided my hand to one particular box. I giddily tore open the wrapping and paper, and there it was.....hmmmm.

I put on a bright smile to please my parents, but for some reason the magic felt gone. My dad offered to help me put it together and as we were doing so I felt it- the first pangs of Christmas regret. We opened it up and it did look cool for a little while. But soon I found my interest waining, even giving it over to my little brother to play with instead of me. My parents caught me shuffling the gift away and noted my change in attitude.

"What's wrong? Aren't you happy with what Santa got you?" they asked.

I could feel the lump of tears beginning to well, sad that I had foolishly wasted a Christmas gift on something I didn't really even want anymore, and scared to tell my parents. Eventually, I finally broke out, "I don't think I want it anymore..."

The look on my poor parents face must have been the closest thing to murder I'd ever see. After I had been so adamant about getting it, convincing them that I would love it and play with it all the time, and then to be done with it after 10 mins must have been a harsh blow.

As a little time passed and I watched how much fun my brother had with it I did begin to play with it a bit. But the initial magic of the thing was gone the second I pulled the wrapping paper off. Unfortunately for my parents and me (then and now) I never did quite learn my lesson. Hence, a few years later...with My Magic Diary...