A Giant Stuffed Cat: Want.

I pride myself on my gift-giving abilities. I aim for the perfect combination of thoughtful and cheap, and I am pretty good at hitting that mark, seeing as I am both thoughtful and cheap.

A side story I didn’t share yet about my trip to San Francisco for my sister’s baby shower is my quest for the perfect souvenir for Mike. He was bumming that he couldn’t accompany me on this trip, so I wanted to let him know I was thinking about him. I know, I am such a wonderful example of human kindness.

As the trip was pretty busy, the only real souvenir hunting took place while we cruised Little Italy. Perfect, seeing as my husband is REALLY Italian. And by REALLY, I mean he eats spaghetti seven nights of the week and mocks me for my very non-Italian-ness, like my inability to digest copious amounts of marinara and my disinterest in Jersey Shore. (?)

So we entered a FANTASTIC Italian sweet shoppe and gift store, and my eyes immediately latched onto this stack of beauteousness:

Oh. Em. Gee.

It was love at first sight. See, I have a sick predilection for cute, cuddly creatures. I wept with joy when I saw this video, for example:

So naturally, when I encounter a bin of giant, soft, fluffy kitties yes, my powers of rationality escape me. When I plucked the one that looked just like my cat out of the pile, my heart melted and I fell under the spell of the soft, puffy creature. I actually cuddled it tightly to my bosom as I walked around the store.

C’mon, I *totally* deserve this giant stuffed cat

No, I didn’t buy it for myself, because something deep within me cries out against purchasing stuffed animals for a nearly thirty-year-old woman.

That is me. A grown up.

Plus it was $22.50, and the middle-aged dude behind the counter didn’t look too keen on the idea of bartering on the price of a toy meant for a grown woman.

As I traversed the rest of the store with the kitty tucked in my arms (yes, I considered it longer than I should have), I briefly considered this for Mike:

So this exists.

But then I thought twice about the practicality of a candy-g-string.  Just to demonstrate that I do maintain a few working brain cells.

I also fell in love with this book:

I could have brought it to work for show and tell.

Just so you can experience the full magical power that is this book, here’s an excerpt: Isn’t that sad in the most awesome way imaginable? I came within milliseconds of purchasing it, until I remembered I wasn’t there to shop for myself. Sometimes I hate being so responsible.

I ended up buying Mike a mixed bag of saltwater taffy, because who doesn’t like taffy? I even picked out the flavors I knew he’d like, instead of just getting the ones I wanted to sample. Most of them even made it home to him. And that, my friends, is the very definition of love.

Never fear though, reader, I did walk away with a little something for myself:

It’s a magnet affixed to the metal lamp above my computer, inspiring me with its wisdom and truth.

So now, seeing the items I didn’t purchase, you know what to buy me for Christmas: a giant stuffed cat or a hilarious book about death. Not the candy g-string, though. Goodness knows we have enough of those around here.

 

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Comments

A Giant Stuffed Cat: Want. — 2 Comments

  1. I’m laughing so hard. Who makes a book called “All my friends are still dead”? That’s too much. I stay away from miniature doll house stores because I am still really sad that I never had a doll house growing up. I really want to buy EVERYTHING in the store. What is wrong with me?

    • OH MY GOSH ME TOO ME TOO! My childhood deprivation of a dollhouse still haunts me to this day!
      And isn’t the death book SO RIDICULOUS in a way that screams, “please buy me?” Hahaha.
      I’m glad you commented on this post, as it’s my favorite. :)

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