Last Minute Christmas Gift Ideas For Singles

 

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Because I watch Millionaire Matchmaker, I know how frustrating single people can be.

That is why this holiday season I’ve decided to give back by offering the following three gift ideas for those  friends/relatives/third wheels in your life.

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1. MAIL ORDER BRIDE

Everyone knows that the most practical gift you could give a single man is a foreign bride.

Provided he isn’t anal about trivial things like language barriers and/or identity fraud, you’ll find thousands of marriage-ready brides in the Russian Mail Order Bride Directory.

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Here are just a few of the brides who are desperately looking for love:

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If, for some strange reason, your single person can resist that jewelry, you might want to consider the asian bride directory, as explained below.

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For those of you who were lost after the first “asian,” there’s also a more American-friendly option.

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PLUS

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EQUALS

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2. PROOF THAT THERE ARE SINGLES OUT THERE WHO ARE WORSE OFF

During the holidays, few things offer as much comfort to a lonely single person as hearing the words,  “Look on the bright side. At least your chances of finding love are better than so-and-so’s.”

The following are just a few of the “so and so’s” you can find on the internet. (Feel free to wrap and place under the tree for that depressed single person in your life.)

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Sar1:

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GuyintoBigBoobs

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Billy

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Keith (aka. “Self-Doubting Pervert/JHL Fan”)

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Guy who messaged me immediately after I joined* Cougared.com
*solely for research purposes

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All Of Them, starting with “Muffin Eyes”

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Girl With Hair Clip On Nose-

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I’m guessing she’s inflicting this pain upon her nose to distract from the pain she feels in her heart. That, or because she has nothing better to do.

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3. AniMATE

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Perhaps the most meaningful Christmas present you can give the lonely single in your life is that of companionship, in the form of a down-filled anime pillow.

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Slumber party pillow hugs. Because tickle fights are for girls.

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Not only are they great for boys slumber parties (did somebody say pillow fight? LOL), they also fulfill many other roles.

For example:

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I trust these options will help you make your single lonely person feel less single and lonely this Christmas. Oh, and if you’re interested in purchasing your own set of “Muffin Biniculars”, feel free to contact me for prices.

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Labor Day

My friends love taking pictures of me because I am extremely photogenic. Unfortunately I’m also self-effacing, which is why my enviable trait doesn’t reflect in their photos.

All of my biggest milestones  (My first steps, Graduation, the time I was caught in the backseat of Jason Miller’s Iroc which is also where I earned the nickname “Backseat Bschooled”), have been forever immortalized in photos of me channeling one of the following 3 personas:

1. The Demented Psychopath

2. The Stunned Vagina

3. The Gender-Undetermined Skeptic (see below)

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B’s Rule #17: Never trust a stranger who points a camera at you and asks you to say “cheese”.

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The condition is genetic. My sister suffers from a related disorder, known as “Camera Flash-Triggered Narcolepsy.”

She’s also a nurse. Thanks to the invasive paparazzi, L is prohibited from ever joining the cast of the upcoming reality show, “Defibrillating With The Stars”.

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Early Years

Even as a baby, her talent was obvious.

Even as a baby, her talent was obvious.

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Later Years

Warning: Do not try this at home.

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Modified catnap.

Modified catnap.

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To add to L’s list of marriage-hindering shortcomings, she has a habit of writing cryptic texts, like the one she sent a few weeks ago while 8 months pregnant.

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After several more probing texts in which I rephrased the question several different ways (“Does it mean that a miniature human being is preparing to leave the confines of your uterus?” “Do you feel like a smart car is trying to merge  your vagina?”), I was finally able to drag it out of her that yes, she was having her baby. Early the next morning, my mother and I embarked on the five hour road trip.

L lives in a small city in BC. Judging by the number of retirement homes we passed and the pictures displayed in the hospital corridors, it’s only getting smaller.

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Where being put out to pasture is fun again!

After taking down a gang of heavily medicated  geriatrics in the hospital parking lot (kind of like Shriners, only meaner and on mobility scooters),  my mother and I made our way to my sister’s room.

Because L wasn’t in active labor yet, the doctor decided to wait until the next morning to induce her. In the meantime, she was allowed to go home and pack her hospital bag.

L: *Handing me her car keys* You should drive.
Me: Right. Because I’m a much better driver.
L:  Or maybe because my amniotic fluid is all over the passengers’ seat.
Me: Isn’t that stuff supposed to go in one of those tube thingys under the hood?
L: Not transmission fluid. Amniotic fluid. You know, the stuff that gushes out of you when your water breaks?
Me: You mean water?
L: No. I mean amniotic fluid.
Me: *coughing* I see. Well, thanks for letting me know.  My non-childbearing hips wouldn’t survive the first trimester.
Sister: *looks at mom* Would you please explain to her that’s not how it works?
Mom: That’s not how it works.
Me:  Since when have you ever been pregnant?

The next morning, the nurse gave L something to induce her labor.

My mother and I tried to distract her from the pain. My mom talked about her own excruciating labors. I talked about myself.  My mom told her about the joys of postpartum depression. I imagined conversations between geriatrics on fast food flyers. I could tell by the way she was glaring at us that our plan worked.

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Just as I was about to rummage through my sister’s meal tray, the doctor announced that she was in full labor. For the next 30 minutes, I faded in and out of consciousness.

During that time, I vaguely remember hearing the following:

L- “I can’t do this!”
Doc- “You’ll be fine. Remember to take deep breaths.”

L- “Where’s my epidural?”
Dr.- “It’s too late. You’re fully dilated.”
Me- “I’m not fully dilated. Maybe you could give me the epidural and I can describe to her how it feels?”

 L- “I feel like you’re all up in my business.”

L- “There better not be any pics of my crotch on Facebook…”

L- “I don’t want to do this any more!”

L- “Give me some Vicodin, at least!”
Me- “Why don’t give me the Vicodin instead and I can describe to her how it feels?”

Dr.- “Try as hard as you can to push my fingers out!
Me- “Sorry to interrupt, but do you think I could get that Vicodin soon? No rush….”

Me/L- *horrific screaming sounds*

Dr.- “It’s a BOY!!!”

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Baby Ollie. A tiny bundle of pure perfection.

It’s true what they say. The minute I laid eyes on little O I forgot all about the pain I’d suffered during labor.

To commemorate the momentous occasion, I decided to give L a gift. Because I believe childbirth is a sham invented by baby companies to make money, instead I used my unparalleled photoshop skills to edit a picture of her and her baby.

Not only did it turn out perfectly, I also came up with an ingenious way to conceal her camera-flash triggered narcolepsy.

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**Note- It wasn’t until after posting it that I found out she was being sarcastic.

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