Oh boy. It’s that time of year again. The holidays. Oh, how I love them. I’m as excited as an anthill that is about to get kicked over. I can’t wait to spend money on people that I see once a year and know nothing about.

You see, in my apartment, there is no trace of Christmas. I live in a bachelor pad. If I were to put up a Christmas tree, it would probably be burned immediately by the Satanic forces in the Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden posters that adorn my walls.

I don’t want to pull a humbug, I actually enjoy giving gifts, it’s BUYING the gifts that is such a struggle. The mall is packed to the gills with people with way too much time on their hands. It is impossible for me to just walk in and grab the gifts and get out. Everything is an ordeal. Especially when there are seven year old kids who still piss their pants standing in the way.

I’m too sharp to make a list. Make that too stupid. I’ll make quite the pilgrimage to always wind up getting the same thing....... a kitty cat calendar for Nanny, tools for Dad that he won’t use, and because of my lack of creativity, everyone else gets the ideal gift. Gift certificates. I only wish that is what I’d get. I always get what my family thinks I should have.

I’m not saying a book by Tom Brokaw isn’t fascinating, but it’s not for me. I’ve heard enough about the G.O.P. to the D.O.G. and I’m trippin.........

And every two years, I ask for BLACK LEATHER GLOVES. Every time, Nanny seems to confuse that with homemade mittens. I love Nanny, but I just don’t think mittens are a great complement to the Super man cape she made me last year.

What are we supposed to do with mittens? They serve absolutely no purpose. And Nanny will even confuse the color. Somehow she transposes “black” into “purple and yellow stripes”. But hey, it’s cold, so I’d better wear ‘em. Purple and yellow it is. I look like a beehive in a good mood. I try to wave down a cab, and they’ll just look at me funny and keep going.

If mittens actually kept my hands warm, I’d understand the sacrifice of losing the use of my hands. Even little kids are throwing snow balls at me, telling me I look like an idiot. I’d try to make a snow ball myself, but the damn snow sticks to the wool on my mittens like velcro. Damn these mittens.

So now you may understand my disdain for the holidays, I still have another year to go before I ask for those elusive black leather gloves again, but I’m a little nervous. This year, I’ve asked for black boxer shorts. I ‘m trying to picture myself in a seductive pair of purple and yellow underwear made out of wool. What will Nanny think of next? Hey, we all have itches to scratch.