Hair comes the bride

It's a dreary, bleary day today, and I don't have much of anything exciting to post. I went out over lunch and purchased a wedding present for a girl I don't particularly care for, which chaps my ass, but is necessary nonetheless.

M says we have to do it because "it's the right thing to do," and I know he's right, but still. Just because this girl happens to be marrying a guy we do like, we're stuck plastering a big fake smile on and saying, "Congratulations!" and forking over our hard-earned cash to buy her a lamp. Because I'd bet cash money that the groom was not ever in Bed Bath & Beyond pickin' out an accent lamp.

I found all kinds of good things I could have gotten her, too, while there, but I was a good dooby and stuck to the registry list. I could have gotten her cow hot pads, for instance. Or cream-colored, pear-shaped salt and pepper shakers. Or a potato skinner. Or a small keychain that is an oinking pig, with two blue LED lights shooting through it's nose. See, all kinds of opportunities abounded. My equally snarky office-mates joined in my grousing and complaining and suggested I buy her a spa gift certificate for a lip wax. Now that's creative.