Bacon Bowls & White Elephants

Ladies and gentlemen, I sit here passing some great gas as I try to write a fictional line of pure bull about a massive diamond named after a Hollywood legend.

 

Take a moment to ponder that.  I’ll wait.

 

Ok, then.

 

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been fleshing out a fictional piece which has kept my attention away from things like dispatching occasional rants to the internet via this very site.  The problem is that I’m trying to put more time and attention into it instead of the usual practice of upchucking and publishing a slice of verbal brilliance without so much as conducting a rewrite.  At this point, I’m afraid it may be too long to publish here.  With that in mind, I have an idea or two on how to distribute it to the masses when the time comes.

 

I’ll worry about that part later.

 

In the meantime, I wanted to take this opportunity to impart a piece of Christmas since we seem to be in the season now.  The best indicator that tis the season is this.  It’s December and we haven’t put the pre-lit Christmas tree up yet.

 

For those of you not in the know, a White Elephant Gift Exchange is the practice by where cubicle dwellers and their like minded cow-orkers partake in a gift exchange sometime during the Christmas season.  The event is held at the office, and usually during a previously scheduled meeting time.  This keeps management from having to spring for an extra long table at the local Applebee’s and a bar tab.

 

Did I call it a gift exchange?

 

My bad.

 

It’s a re-gift exchange.

 

That’s right people.  Each member of the group brings an item which qualifies as a gift, but not a gift they would actually want to keep for themselves.

 

Did you get a highly tacky scarf in the last year from Aunt Edna?

 

White elephant.

 

Did that bath and shower basket complete with loofa and lube that you won as a door prize at some charity auction sport an odor for you that you wouldn’t want to sport yourself?

 

White elephant.

 

Do you really need that battery operated hair removal tool that showed up in your stocking last year?

 

White elephant.

 

Do you have a coffee mug with the company logo on it that you got for successfully piloting Project Chaos last year with no reported or traceable loss of human life?

 

White elephant.

 

The process of a White Elephant exchange is pretty easy.  All participants draw a number.  When someone’s number comes up, they have the option to pick a wrapped gift from the collective pile of tacky scarves, personal grooming products, cheap wine, and other various crap with the company logo.  The other option is to steal a gift from someone who has already opened a gift from the pile of previously aforementioned crap.

 

At least two people invariably end up with the booby prize, consistent with that of coaxial cable, flocking agent, and office supplies which have hurriedly been gathered into a sealed confidential envelope by the one participant who forgot the re-gift exchange was today.

 

The key to these things is to draw a high number so you don’t pick early and get your unwanted crap stolen by someone else who doesn’t want it.

 

This year, out of a group of thirteen, I drew number eleven.

 

So let’s go on a slight tangent, and then I’ll return to today’s story.

 

Based on what I’ve gathered from the internet and personal observations, there are exactly two substances which serve to enhance the validation of the existence of intelligent design in this vast universe of ours.

 

Yoga pants.

 

Bacon.

 

Now let’s get back to the story.

 

The number two participant in the recent White Elephant exchange that I participated in got a Bacon Bowl.

 

On background (which should be completely unnecessary to offer up at this point), the Bacon Bowl is a device which allows you to cook bacon into the shape of a bowl using your microwave.  From there, you put some stuff in it like guacamole, chile con queso, mashed potatoes, ranch dip, salad (yeah right), dog food, your keys and spare change, peppermints, butterscotch, loose sockets, recaptured buttons, and unused massage chair and batting cage tokens.

 

Good Lord in Butter, people.  Why on God’s Green Earth would anyone ever re-gift such a wonderful tool for mankind?

 

Righteous indignation aside, I was presented with, and seized on the opportunity to forego the chance to unwrap a box featuring three scented candles, and I liberated the bacon bowl from Number 2.

 

Bacon bowlIt’s mine now, people.

 

It will not be re-gifted.

 

People outside of the office are asking me what I want for Christmas.

 

I want bacon.

 

Lots of it.

 

I’m going to make a bunch of bowls in which to house my guacamole, chile con queso, mashed potatoes, ranch dip, salad (yeah right), dog food, keys and spare change, peppermints, butterscotch, loose sockets, recaptured buttons, and unused massage chair and batting cage tokens.

 

Happy and Merry y’all.

Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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