So while I'm waiting to go to church with Captain Smithwell, I've been texting back and forth with Brother Leftenent Smithwell about getting together for tonight's game. Somehow, the subject of bad Christmas gifts came up. My mom always does this thing about, "What's the best gift you ever got?" every Christmas Eve, but the much, much better stories always come out of the gifts that make no goram sense at all.

For example: Captain Smithwell got the following from his family this year: a random bottle of brandy (neither of us recognize the brand - it might as well be Private Selection), whiskey stones, and an electric box cutter.

1. My husband doesn't really drink. He's never even tried brandy.

2. He never drinks hard alcohol straight and actually prefers weaker drinks (so what's the point of stones?)

3. WTF - THERE'S ACTUALLY AN ELECTRIC VERSION OF A BOX CUTTER? NOPE. NOT DANGEROUS AT ALL. Not to mention the fact that Captain Smithwell is not handy. At all.

Seriously, it's like his family has no fucking clue who he is. Even my parents had enough sense to get him a Jackie Robinson jersey and a new Garmin; you know, stuff he actually likes and uses.

However, these can't possibly be the worst gifts of the season. What say you GT? I'll even offer up some kind of homemade prize of foodstuff origin to whoever got the worst gift. I feel like that's the least I can do to make up for whatever fuckery you received.