I keep imagining that my apartment will've been robbed, rendering many of my Christmas presents (particularly the DVD-player add-on for my increasingly ancient Xbox) useless. I left it in a state of complete disarray so doubtless it will take a few minutes to ascertain what's been lifted.
What with my puzzling lack of equipment-intensive hobbies, I'm considered somewhat difficult to buy for, so it's no surprise that I received so many gift certificates, most of which I used getting legal copies of one of my favorite cartoon series, Home Movies.
My brother Josh couldn't understand why I would buy three seasons of a show I already have on my computer. The show's creators said something similar on one of the commentary tracks — they aren't getting any money for these, apparently.
Mostly it was guilt, and a desire for several gigs of hard drive space. Ethicist Peter Singer is partially at fault as well. Curse that crazy vegetarian.
I have visions of a shirt, dark blue with teal writing:
Deontologist
(Exercise Caution)
(Exercise Caution)
Not that I know what teal looks like.
The T-shirts at Target frustrate me. I love Target — bonus points to the cashier who wished me "Happy Holidays" while deep in "Merry Christmas" territory — but their T-shirts are all much too long to be worn untucked.
I know I'm not hip to fashion (in fact, I'm dimly aware of a few times I've actually refrained from buying clothing because it was too cool for me) but I feel like a crazy person in Target. In all the displays, the models are either tucking in their T-shirts or only pictured from the waist up, basically because if you don't tuck in the shirts they reach down to your crotch.
And that looks very strange to me. I think at this point 90% of the T-shirts I wear are commemorative; people are going to start wondering what was so great about Ormsby Hall in 2002.
