It’s probably not secret that I’m an organizer. I like to plan anything and everything: parties, toy drives, my girls’ weekend that’s not for nine months. So when remote office parties became all the rage, I thought to myself, “Well, why don’t we remote writers have one of these ourselves?” And so, the first annual PGP Remote Writers Secret Santa Google Hangout was born.
On Monday evening, we all gathered in front of our computers to open our gifts from our Secret Santa “together.” Well, most of us gathered: JR Hickey was apparently “forced” to go to some wine and cheese event by his capital R roommate and while Heavy Metal Krist was technically present, his internet connection was so poor it looked like he being held hostage in a third world country. And because we love all of you, our loyal followers, we thought we would recap what has to be some of the weird gifts in the history of the holidays.
My two gifts consisted of a Texas A&M dog collar, which I’ll definitely be keeping in the truck for my pup. She doesn’t normally wear a collar or harness of any kind, so any time we’re getting ready to leave the house, it’s at least an extra 10 minutes of searching for wherever the hell we last left her harness and leash. I also got “Potty Golf,” the toilet putting trainer, and I have to confess I didn’t really get much sleep last night because I was so excited to try and figure out how to install this in the executive office at work and get a putt putt league going. Thanks to my Secret Santa JR Hickey for having my pup’s safety and my short game in mind.
“Twas the week before Christmas, and across the Bay near and far, not a creature was stirring, except for JR. With next to no sleep and trying to fight it, he was three hours late, all thanks to United. But what to his wondering eyes would appear, but a box shipped cross country, but from whom wasn’t clear. The sender was good, the wrapping, all class. Except the return address which read, “Boston, Mass.”
There’s only one person who reps the Celts and the Pats! Who tweets at odd hours and loves food and cats! It’s 2NOTBrokeGirls, and she really gets me: a book about comedy plus candy and whiskey. So big ups to J, the best of the fair sex. She blew the rest of you away, (now just don’t blow your ex).”
There are a lot of perks to being a doctor; however, one of the definite downsides is that you have to examine people pretty much all day every day. I’m not a touchy-feely person in general, so I’ll be the first to admit that physical contact with strangers is not something I particularly enjoy. Occasionally, part of a complete physical includes a rectal exam, which is unpleasant for everyone involved – although not as mutually unpleasant as when a patient comes in with a foreign object stuck up his or her poop chute. If we’re being honest, those two situations aren’t exactly comparing apples to apples, but they both call for a strong set of gloves and a stronger drink after work. A few PGP colleagues were talking about having a rough day, so I asked them how many buttholes they’d had to touch that day – it’s usually my metric for how shitty my day is going. I haven’t lived that down, so you can just call me Dr. Crick Watson, Proctology. I’m the Assman, and thanks to Heavy Metal Krist, I’ve got the license plate to prove it.
In my personal opinion, this was hands down the best gift in the exchange. Featured here is a Wake and Bake Style Ceramic Coffee Mug Smoking Pipe courtesy of my buddy, Madoff and the illusions store LLC online smoke shop. What better way to start any Sunday morning than with a cup of WaWa Holiday Blend, and another fat bowl of a hybrid strain of blackberry bud (only in the states of AK, CA, CO, DC, ME, MA, NV or OR) to mellow even the harshest Sunday Scaries life can throw at you, especially after a hard Saturday night of crushing Margs or Rumplemintz. Of course tonight I made sure to break it in with a Yeungling and bowl of some unknown funky smelling strain gifted to me at a holiday party by a super cool member of the tribe. Once again, Madoff, I loved the gift and you’re a top notch guy. Also huge shoutout to Kim Jong Un for letting Heavy Metal Krist report in from North Korea.
About a year and a half ago now, I took up the gentleman’s sport of golf. After years of marveling at Tiger and Phil on the course I finally jumped on board and tried my hand at going low. Spoiler alert: I’m fucking awful at golf, but I’m hooked on the sport. There’s a cheap practice putting green by my desk and your boy makes sales calls while swinging a 9 iron in his office. Knowing all of this, my law school extraordinaire Taylor gifted me with some items to get my game on the right track. New tees, some practice balls, and a couple nutritional supplements to keep my body on even keel in-between Miller Lites during my next round of 18. Thanks for looking out fam.
Every once in a while, the world is given a hero that we don’t necessarily need, but is born out of absolute necessity. Enter Bill Belichick and the New England Patriots. During the cold winter months in New England, the Patriots give us yankees in the Northeast hope, and a reason to keep pressing, and keep trudging through winters that would even make Buddy The Elf say “Fuck This Shit” had that movie been filmed in Boston instead of NYC. Because we all know that come February, the Pats are always in contention. Kyle Bandujo gave me one of the more legitimate gifts of the PGP Secret Santa. Knowing I’m a huge Patriots fan, and an equally big fan of beer, he delivered this Christmas with stellar Patriots mug and football helmet can/bottle holder. Now every time I take a swig of the nectar of the gods, I do so representing the greatest team in the NFL. Not bad for a Cowboys fan. Thanks, Kyle.
For those of you who can’t quite see it, the butt pack includes images of famous sloths throughout history, including the famous astronauts, Sally Sloth and Neil Sloth, and the Dalai Sloth (or the Sloth Lama), among others. Ten out of ten will use this fanny pack at annual sloth conventions (and amusement parks/80s parties); apparently, it glows in the dark. The mouse pad, titled “Funny Cute Cat Dressed as Rambo with Gun Riding a Glowing Red Eyes Fire Breathing Unicorn Mouse Pad” is exactly what it sounds like. It was described to me by my Secret Santa
I love to travel, but I hate looking like a tourist. Keeping track of the drugs that are legal only in my state is a lot to remember, and these cunning locals know this. If I don’t blend in, I’m an easy target. I have historically refused to show my face in Texas for fear of just that. But now, thanks to my secret santa, I am free to roam. Equipped with a Texas A&M wine tumbler, a bomber of Shiner, and a “Drink Local” coozie with a Texas on it, I fit right in. He even went so far as to include a Christmas card with what I can only assume is a fair representation of the average Texas dude. Look out y’all, I’m booking my ticket today.
Everyone that knows me knows I’m a big Mountaineer fan. I spend more time than the average adult following recruiting, watching CFB, basketball and I even keep a count down until the season starts the day after the season ends. My man Cush hooked me up with some fresh WVU threads, complete with the breathable comfy cotton because I am a sweaty bastard. Thanks man, let’s go Mountaineers and eat shit Pitt!
Thanks to this year’s Secret Santa gift exchange, all of my dreams have come true. I can now wear my new Harambe tank top out on the town to let everyone know how special he was to me. If I had a dick, it would almost certainly be out for that gorilla. RIP Harambe. I can also fulfill my lifelong dream of constantly drinking wine in the shower, something that was tough to do (and particularly hazardous), prior to receiving my new wine glass holder made specifically for shower-boozing sessions. Now I have even MORE reasons to drink oodles of cheap wine and tell you guys about it. Last but not least, I got hooked up with my girl Chrissy Teigen’s new cookbook. She is one of my favorite Twitter follows, (behind @WWESubway) and is a little bit of life goals. If she gets her hot bod by eating Crab Cakes Benedict like she says in this book, then I’ll see you guys around- I gotta go buy out the Whole Foods. Thank you to the good Crick Watson, MD for saving lives and improving mine. Merry Christmas, Assman.
My Secret Santa Very Respectfully rightfully assumed based off my PGP pseudonym, accompanying profile photo, and the way I act in general, that I like to rock. As a result, they sent me a gift from the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame. They also knew that I’m a big fan of incorporating rock into even the most mundane of tasks and hooked me up with a cooking apron with a guitar on it that says “Prepare to rock.” Whenever I’m cooking from now on, people will know that the meal I’m about to prepare for them will melt their fucking faces like a Yngwie Malmsteen guitar solo. I think I’m also going to wear it whenever I enter the Beats Lab to lay down some thunderous bass lines for a track. So my gift not only looks badass, but has versatility as well. I appreciate the thoughtfulness and am grateful for it. Keep on rockin’ in the free world, everyone.
Living the carb-free life can be a difficult cross to bear. Luckily for me, my Secret Santa Post Grad Shibby provided the perfect gift to help me cope. First out of the box came an official PGP coffee cup, which as you can see is just a Styrofoam cup with PGP written on it. Also included was a K-cup of Kona blend and a nip of peppermint vodka, which I may or may not be bring today at the office and passing off as a peppermint mocha. But then came the real gift: the Veggetti Pro Table-Top Spiralizer, which, according to Amazon, will allow me to “Quickly Spiral Slice Vegetables into Healthy Veggie Pasta.” Now I know that zoodles (aka zucchini noodles) are no where near as delish as regular-ol’ pasta, but honestly, if I drink enough of this peppermint vodka, I probably won’t know the damn difference..