flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
I was going to just post my first rant on Facebook and leave it at that, since complaining about gifts is a real dick move, but apparently nearly everyone I know suffers from endless gift mugs. So please, if you’ve given me a mug as a gift, assume that yours is the treasured and beloved exception and that I am legitimately besotted with it. This is about those OTHER mugs. You know, the ones you didn’t give me.
Also, I would just like to say that AFTER seeing the FB rant, my mother presented me with what she contends is not a mug, since it has no handle. She is correct – it is an earthenware cup with precisely the dimensions of a standard mug, but no convenient gripping area, so clearly that’s better. Can we just assume I have all of the drinking vessels of any description that I could ever need and stop now?
Also, I have at least one friend who heard my mug rant and immediately thought, “It will be hilarious to give Nara many mugs for our next gift exchanging occasion!” That friend is incorrect and I will not laugh, no matter how delightfully said mugs are wrapped. I will seethe inwardly and possibly also outwardly and remember to get her something really shitty for the next gift-giving occasion after that, though.
I’m staring at Mom’s latest drinking thing right now, and it is CUTE with a CAT and those are things I love, but let’s not mince words. A mug with no handle may be a cup. but that’s no better than a grad school buddy’s argument that she wasn’t ONLY living on Pop-Tarts, because sometimes she ate Hot Pockets. A Hot Pocket is just a Pop-Tart full of meat-like substance, and either way, you’re going to get scurvy.
That took a weird turn somewhere, but I stand by it.