Weston, (how appropriate that she's named after a suburb full of overfed yuppie larvae) spends two pages whining about how impersonal and evil gift cards are. That's right. In a world where you're lucky to get a "Thank You", she's whining about gift cards:
A gift, ideally, says, "I thought about you. I considered your likes and dislikes, your needs and wants, your dreams and desires, and found you this token of my esteem that I hope will delight you."Hey fuck you, maybe that's all I had time for. Maybe there was some shit going on, and instead of ignoring everyone, I did what I was able to. Jesus, sometimes life sucks, and you don't have time to make doilies for everyone.
A gift card says, "There! Checked you off my list."
It's not just me that says so. Judith Martin, the doyenne of etiquette known to millions as Miss Manners, dismisses gift certificates -- and, by extension, gift cards -- as "a pathetic compromise convenient to people who do not trust their judgment about selecting the right present for those whose tastes they ought to know."In that case, Miss Manners can hob my knob too. What happened to the ettiquette of "don't be a greedy bitch", aka, "judge not lest ye be judged"? What, that only counts for everything but gifts?
Think about it. Would a lover, in the flush of romance, lean close to the object of his affection and present . . . a gift card?Reading that, I am SO in love with my wife right now, because a) she's not an ungrateful greedy fucknut like Lizzie, and b) if I handed her a gift card to Target or the Apple Store on her birthday or valentines, she'd be happy as can be. It's not that I can't get her a nice gift, but I also know there's a dozen little things she wants, but will NEVER get around to actually buying. So, I get her a gift card, and watch her have fun. It's like getting your kid a train set. So what if it's a lamer Lionel starter kit. Half the fun is watching people use the gift.
Would proud grandparents present the latest addition to the family with . . . a gift card?You show me a parent who can't use a gift card. Kids are expensive, and people never get that shit right. Fuck clothes that are going to be too small in a fortnight. Right after my son was born, if you'd have given me a gift card that let me buy diapers for a month, I'd have fellated you on the spot. A gift card for new parents is a gift that makes their life easier. Who wouldn't want that?
Would your best and closest friend, the one you've known for years, who's stuck with you through the roller-coaster ride of life, walk into your hospital room and give you . . . a gift card?No. They wouldn't give me a damned thing except a few minutes or hours to sit with me, tell me bad jokes, tell embarassing stories about me to the nurses, and in general, alleviate the boredom and terror of a hospital stay. How fucking thoughtless do you have to be to think "Hmpf. Drove out of their way to see me and only brought a gift card. Fucker"? Liz Pulliam Weston-level thoughtless.
However thoughtless that is, Liz Pulliam Weston is even worse.
The harm is that the art of gift-giving is quickly devolving into an entirely commercial exchange. How much longer until we simply start thrusting wads of dollar bills at each other?Spin, Magic Wheel of Entitlement Douchery, Spin! There have been times in my life when I was blowing off bills so that I could buy groceries. Someone handing me a wad of dollar bills would have made me almost cry for joy.
Some people, apparently, would be delighted with that prospect. While researching party themes for my daughter's upcoming celebration, I stumbled across a posting by a woman who proudly included the horrifying words "monetary gifts would be much appreciated" on her 3-year-old child's invitations. She went on to explain that "I wanted money as gifts for my daughter's savings and for us to buy bigger toys, like a big kitchen and a Barbie Jeep that she wanted, instead of guests giving her small toys."Pot, Kettle, Bitch
It's official. Shame is dead.
But it's on the second page that she shows just how unbearably entitled she is:
How would I have felt, for example, about the new friend I rushed to the hospital one night had she thanked me with a gift card rather than a basket of chocolate-dipped strawberries, each more luscious than the last? Of course, no gift was expected or required, but her thoughtfulness created a bond.Yeah, a bond of "LIZZIE BETTER GET HER FUCKING REWARD, OR YOU JUST WALK TO THE HOSPITAL, BEE-YATCH!". Some bond. I got news for you Lizzie, maybe you expect a fucking reward for being a decent human being, but the rest of us grew up. You know what I want for rushing a friend to the hospital? The "reward" of having not having their funeral be the next time we hang out together. What kind of jackoff entitlement bitch douchewad gets pissed because they didn't get fucking gourmet candy as a reward for not letting a friend die? CANDY. How old is this bitch, three?
Or would I have felt nearly as welcomed by my new mother-in-law if, on my first Christmas as a wife, she'd presented me with a gift card rather than the antique soup tureen that had been in her family for years? Her present told me I was part of the family.Or that she knew you'd be an insufferable bitch to her son if you didn't get some Martha Stewart Fantasy. How dare you expect anything as a gift? Or a gift at all?
But I bet you anything, Lizzie says "Oh, it's the thought that counts" six times a month. Hypocritical asshole, that's all she is: a hypocritical asshole.
And should I give up trying to please my husband who is -- Kenneth Cole as my witness -- one of the hardest human beings in the world to shop for? I think not. With each gift, and each return, I learn a little bit more about his tastes and style. It's a challenge to delight and surprise him, but occasionally I do -- and it's worth the effort.
Yeah, I bet he's thrilled, because you know that Lizzie ain't putting out unless she gets some fucking thing involving candied platypus eyeballs served on a hand-carved mahogany dildo. This guy has to be wanting to eat fucking glass every time he gets a gift from his wife. With her sense of GIMMEGIMMEGIMME he's got to be thinking, "No one told me I was really marrying AUDREY II!!! HERE! I KILLED SOMEONE FOR YOU? IS THAT SPECIAL ENOUGH YOU PASTY-FACED HARRIDAN?"
It also drove home the point, as few things do nowadays, that special occasions are about people -- not about getting more stuff or increasing our net worth.Wait, Wish-I-Was-Martha spends two pages bitching about the quality of stuff people give out, and then says it's about the people, not the stuff or the cash? I have one question for Lizzie:
Aren't you even a little afraid there's a hell.
Here's how you handle a "situation" where someone gives you a gift card instead of a hand-waxed donkey scrotum:
"A gift card? Wow <name>, thank you so very much? There's a dozen things I can use this for. What a thoughtful present."
If you can't bring yourself to say that for a gift card, and mean it, then fuck off, you don't deserve to get so much as a flaming dog turd on your porch for a present.
You want to know what's wrong with gift - giving in general? That self-important entitlement queens like Lizzie are treated with anything other than derision and mockery.