Dear Santa, dear Santa Klaus (because it is something I pupazzone coke is not that I've ever convinced)
I know that you doing well in this period. Regardless of the skepticism of a childhood now betrayed even by parents, I see you everywhere brutally abused, forced to hum crackling records electronically, mercilessly hung on the walls of palaces, at the mercy of illuminations and weather, that in comparison the Holy Child , ousted from his birthday, made merry.
I guess then the photos in shopping malls and on the street, with boys more recalcitrant Fouled by Lucio, and the millions of illegible letters you receive in this time of crisis, and especially for you.
However I feel obliged to participate in the conspiracy post (at least online, we do less paper). But not writing to ask you a list of gifts. No, do not worry. We're going to save. I write to you, however, for all the gifts that I would not want to find under the tree or next to the turkey. Those for which the "thank you" is harder excuses for Fonzie.
Yes, because I already tried to sidetrack friends and family in more meritorious works that spending on storage of useless but I know that the vast majority, I will not be heard. So here is a list of things that just do not want me regalassero. Because if it's the thought that counts, then I think badly of someone who has given me a gift.
For us there is a male demon who appears not only at Christmas, but in every goddamn festive occasion. It manifests itself in packs shaped thin and long. While you accompany it with the deliver that classic "I did not know what to get, so I went on the classic ..". Damn, no, another tie!
When they are not horrendous, of course are clones. But why would I want a tie? And above all, why would you just let me know that you have no idea (and do not want it) of what I might be interested?
Very similar, but more ambiguously useful, as are all the other trappings wardrobe. If gloves and scarves are still accepted despite measures and unlikely colors, wallet, belt, and the cases, we do not take anything, but just never with your measurements. So you can always witness the dreadful scene "look if you're lucky, put your things" and squeeze, push, widens always end up with something to lose.
But the most feared object has always been the fateful set shoes. Bulky cans or pouches inside with leather creams and creams of all colors, brushes and toothbrushes to clean cowboy boots or suede loafers. Stuff that will mold within a year of complete inactivity.
Do you hope to find in a real shoehorn, and usually you find one with whom you schiaccierai tiny fingers also put on her slippers. Even worse than that of shoemaker, however, here is a whole set series evil and inexorable. Those for the bathroom.