Worst Birthday Present Ever

Sometimes life just causes you to wonder when exactly was the moment that your loved ones started freebasing heroin. Case and point, is this year's birthday present from my mother: a box of mail order oranges. Now don't get me wrong, I am very much an faithful and true adherent to the dogma of being a gracious gift recipient, no matter how poorly advised said gift was. That said I'll be the first to stand up for your rights to talk shit behind the giver's back after a proper thank you is given. But it is gifts such as these that make me wonder whether or not their is a secret inter-familial game ongoing to see who can give the shittiest gift possible. Because what it boils down to is that I don't like oranges. I understand they are full of vitamins and minerals and general goodness, and for that reason I have from time to time eaten one under protest. But other than that I find them to be sticky, laborious wastes of time. A fact which I have spoken on a few times over the last 30 years or so. But you know who loves oranges? Mom loves oranges. In fact most of the gifts that I receive from Mom are things that I loathe but that she loves. Had you been present for the 2005 Spam Roll debacle you would understand. So, as I say every year, thank Mom. Try to lose my address before next year.