NAGMAG has always found Christmas shopping a pain in the arse. Firstly, as something of a self-centered creature, the thought of having to spend time traipsing round the shops for the benefit of others feels an appalling waste of time. Secondly, as a dyed in the wool skinflint, while we would think nothing of spending a month’s salary on a solitary weekend bender, ending up in Shibuya with no wallet and no shoes, parting with our hard earned cash on our nearest and dearest is as painful as a colonoscopy performed by an alligator with a serious case of the DTs.
But the real reason why we hate Christmas shopping is that everyone has scanned the same shops, and everyone knows precisely how little you have spent on them (and thus how little affection you hold for them), and you know they know this because you can see that crestfallen look on your mother’s face as she unwraps that three seasons old sweater you fished out of the TK Maxx bargain bin, and it’s the same crestfallen look that your aunt has as she unwraps a strikingly similar three seasons old sweater from your mum.
However, having moved to Japan, this has all changed. Because we can shop where no one else does. They think everything is über cool, dead exciting and they have absolutely no idea how cheap and tacky everything is. Which is just as well, as all NAGMAG’s Christmas shopping is done in Daiso. That’s right, the ¥100 heaven. Don’t believe us? Check out what we got this year!
For Mum: The Face Brush
Due to an administrative error, when NAGMAG was a child we were sent to a middle school where creationism was taught, and countless times we were told that man could not have come from ape as no ‘missing link’ had been discovered. The school had to change their curriculum the first time my mother came to pick me up. To say she’s a bit hairy is like saying Mussolini was a bit strict, and Jeremy Clarkson is a bit of a dick. She can get a bit self-conscious about it though, so this year I got her a nice feminine face brush, and a pair of furry boot covers. That way she can confuse people who ask why she is combing the hair on her face by saying it’s not hair but fur, and it’s not on her face but on her boots. Confused? See, it works.
For Bro: Card Case and Ties
NAGMAG’s brother has been a highflier in the world of finance since we were kids. While NAGMAG was hanging about parks drinking appley tins of confidence enhancer, failing to chat up girls, big bro was beating up drunk kids and taking their money. This has continued to this day, and the family were so proud to see him on TV the day Lehman’s crashed, walking out the office with his personal effects in a box. Things haven’t gone so well since then, but surely old ladies he scams out of their pensions will be dazzled by these stylish ties and the this flash business card holder.
For Auntie: Vibrate Marmot and Mask
Everyone has got that blousy auntie. You know the one that makes risqué jokes, comments about you ‘getting to be a big boy now’ with a jokey wink, and drinks too much Harvey’s Bristol Cream at Christmas, corners you in the hallway, presses up against you and tells you that it’s OK because you’re not related by blood. Of course you have, you know, the one when your adventurous ex-girlfriend took you to the masked swinger party and you ended up going with a woman who, although it was anonymous, you are pretty sure it was her due to the combination of cheap perfume, sherry and shrieking laughter. Everyone’s got one of them. Well, for mine this year I’ve got a mask and a fun vibrating marmot toy. It’s ok, she’s not blood related, so don’t judge!
For Cuz: Mannequin Heads
With a mother like that, it’s perhaps no surprise that NAGMAG’s cousin turned into a bit of a gothy headcase. Which is possibly why we like her so much. She has those wild eyes that say, if you so much as look at me, I’ll cut your effing face. She has those eyes because she had those precise words tattooed in the place of her eyebrow. Hopefully a couple of these mannequin doll heads will serve as something to take her anger out on. Either that or they will serve as target practice…
NAGMAG’s Sister is daddy’s princess. What she wants she gets, even if that means still living in the paternal home rent and board free. No, for her there was no being forced out of the house at thirteen to eke out a living selling her flesh to the sort of creepy men who like that sort of thing (harvesting the organs of the homeless, of course. Get your minds out of the gutter!) No, the only time we ever saw daddy dearest get angry at our darling sister was following the time she got a clarinet for Christmas and then spent the rest of the holidays playing Oh When the Saints terribly, ad nauseum, until the clarinet accidentally, tragically fell under the steam roller that dad had rented for the afternoon. So I bought sister a recorder and she can fill the house once again with the timeless classic because it’ll really piss off that old c we are sure he loved it really, What do you mean father issues?
No, if NAGMAG had father issues, would we be going so overboard with his present, this bumper pack of barbecue stuff? Exactly. And no, it’s got nothing to do with the fact that he exclusively dresses in nylon sportswear. Neither does it have anything to do with the highly flammable cologne we bought him for his birthday last year. What exactly it is that you are accusing NAGMAG of? We are innocent, not to mention highly litigious, so be warned!
Okay, maybe they aren’t the greatest presents in the world, but do you know what? We don’t really care! We’ve only spent ¥2,160, and being half way around the world means we don’t have to see the crestfallen looks on their faces when they open their shitty gifts. Happy shopping and Merry Christmas NAGgers!