Present Redux.

So E got home from Regina laden with presents for me from his folks. He also opened his presents from my dad. Results: Mixed.

From my dad for E: Chocolates and a check. Because nothing says, “I’m a socially retarded, terminally angry guy in his seventies” like a gift that has no thought in it. The money is nice. As Bo says, “Dad likes to give us money because then he doesn’t have to tell us he loves us.”

From his folks for me: A box of New York Times crosswords (Awesome) some soap from Shoppers Drug Mart (puzzling), a black cardigan (pretty cool) and a shirt that is pre-wrinkled, mostly polyester, and the colours and pattern of a sudden, spasmodic gastric incident.

Do you guys think it’s ok to exchange it? I always feel weird about exchanging a gift, but I am never going to wear that blouse, even if the only other option is going topless. I would rather walk down Broadway with my boobs in coconuts than wear that shirt. Nobody needs to see that.

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