Memoirs of an Imperfect Angle

I hate wrapping Christmas presents!

No, we are not anywhere near the season of church-driven giving (it ain't charity sweetie!), but I figured I might as well get that rant off my chest during the dog days of summer when everyone is a bit grouchy because of the darn heat and humidity; complaining just seems to blend better during summer's muggy-ness than in winter's chills. Like how smoking a cigarette seems more chic in winter when those tendrils of nicotine-exhaust waif out of your mouth, than during the 100 degrees days of summer where it looks as enjoyable smoking as it does wearing a gas mask jogging.

I know that there were people who, while growing up, belonged to certain ("DECA, DECA anyone?") high school groups that would not only teach you how to wrap presents in a manner that would make you look like an expert, but that would also then hawk those skills at the local malls for a few bucks to help your said school organization. This skill wasn't for me. I was too busy doing sports and learning real life talents, like integers and chemistry equations. I preferred to wrap my presents like I wrapped my text books, place them in a bag; VIOLA!...or if I went fancy, I cut that brown grocery bag open and wrapped the book up with a new surface for future doodling.

Fast forward to the future...

Now I am a broken man, embarrassed by the sad displays of perverted colored origami (that I paid dearly for at the local Hallmark store) molesting a box, trying to pass it off as eclectic wrapping talents. I typically acknowledge the "blooming skills" of my young children who wanted to "help daddy". That only gets awkward when gift recipients realize I have no children. The thing is, when it comes to wrapping, I can't get a darn angle to work with me! I fold one side too short, the other was cut wrong and I end up with something as disheveled as Oscar Madison from the Odd Couple! And what's worse? My partner is an EXPERT at this shit (not that I am competitive about these things...). Every gift he wraps not only looks commercial ready for Tiffany's or Bloomingdale's (even Martha needs to step back!),he even nails the darn ribbons...that he makes! I sit there sticking on as many of those pre-made puppies as I can, to hide the paper tragedy, and he's there making his own....and they look good. I silently curse paper cuts on him that just don't come while I fiddle with yet another crappy angle of wrapping paper to finesse into something more than it will ever be, like Tonya Harding's dreams of making it into the big time.

My closing thought on this, "Thank you for gift bags..."