Christmas and doritos

[Editor's Note: I removed the phrase "I'd be jacked about it" from this post. Apparently I have no friends out there actually reading this or someone would have asked me to remove this. I'm going to the bathroom now to make sure I don't have something red on my nose. ]

Christmas gifts are all about sizes and colours these days. The pure energy and excitement of opening gifts dissipates as you age.

I remember the beginning of the end. It was the year I received my first grown up gift, the dreaded alarm clock. I swear I'll never get my kid's an alarm clock as a gift.

Today I was trying to think of a gift, if one exists, that would fill me with that kid excitement. A really nice bottle of scotch? That would get me excited but it wouldn't keep me busy all day trying to figure it out.

The beauty of kid gifts was spending the whole day messing around with them. Gifts that kept me from having time to shower or eat or help clean up the wrapper spread throughout the house. The only gift I can think of is a video game. The same damn gift that accomplished that when I was a kid.

If I got an xbox or playstation 2, I'm sure I'd play the thing all day. I haven't spent any serious time playing video games in years so it'd be partially about the newness of it. The problem is, in the end, I'd hate myself for the hours I'd burn trying to snowboard past that one jump or nail Jeremy Roenick with a solid bodycheck.

It's like those giant bags of jalapeno and chedder doritos. Sure they seem like a grand idea when you're skipping home from the store. It's three hours later when you wake up on the couch, your mouth, fingers, and chest stained orange, that's the problem. Which reminds me, I wonder if I finished that bag?