Geez. How lame does it get? Either my secret santa does not like me much or knows me very little. I got a chocolate egg, (is it Easter yet?) I don't like cholocate eggs so much and a mood light. Alright, granted I might have been a bit of a lunatic lately. But it is not true all year round and I've had very stretched last few weeks, one oughts to become sensitive when it drags on.
Bloody get me something useful or pretty, or at the very least funny. He/she could have got me a make-up or a fantasy jewelry, they make very nice things in the UK, or some lingerie. Anything but a mood light!
Anyway, I was Martin's secret santa and I got him that funny book, but when we were up to Manchester, we touched on the topic and he complained that people made it so dull, that it was always something proper or nice and he wanted something naughty and embarassing. He had no idea he was instructing his benefactor. So I had the book and thought he won;t like it as a secret santa present. I got him some stress balls in the shape (and feel) of boobs. He was delighted! He loved them. He never suspected they came from me either. Quite cool. It made it worth the effort of getting something else.