Why gift when you can regift?

If someone gives you a handbag you don't particularly like, what should you do with it? If you have a gift receipt or know which store it came from, you might be able to return it. But if you don't, you have three options: (1) Donate it to a thrift store or charity; (2) Regift it to a friend or relative; or (3) Keep it in a closet and take it out whenever you need to swat a fly.

Thankfully, no one gives me handbags, but I have received a few gifts I didn't like. And though I hate to admit it, I've regifted a couple of them fairly successfully. I say "fairly," because my California friend wasn't too crazy about the long underwear. But at least his wife seemed to appreciate the mustache trimmer.

You may think that regifting is tacky and improper, that it should be done only under extreme circumstances, such as when your pantry is overflowing with fruitcake and there just aren't enough dogs around. But regifting has become more common these days, partly because it solves two problems at once. It allows you to get rid of the unneeded gift while also saving you the trouble of going to the store and searching for a gift for a friend who doesn't really need anything and ought to be satisfied with the Anna Kournikova calendar, so what if he's gay. (Hey, I'm straight and I have a picture of Clay Aiken on my wall. No, wait, it's Meg Ryan.)

Regifting is far more common than you think. In fact, if you happen to receive one of those Chia Pets as a gift, keep in mind that it's probably been in circulation since 1979, probably been tossed out of more homes than an Amway rep.

Some gifts have traveled across the world and back. You give a white hat to Aunt Rani, who doesn't care for it and gives it to her cousin Shilpa, who gives it to her friend Anita, who takes it to India and gives it to her grandma, Archana, who gives it to her maid, Priya, who gives it to her mother, Raji, who glues a few shells on it and sells it for 2,000 rupees to an American tourist, who returns to New York and gives it to her mother, who is rather thrilled to have a replica of the Taj Mahal.

As you can see, regifting may result in some happiness down the line, even if it does cause a lot of grief along the way. But before you regift, you need to follow a number of rules. Here are just a few:

1. Do not give a gift to the same person who gave it to you. If you're not sure who gave you a certain gift, then don't give it anyone you know, except perhaps that middle-aged friend who's as forgetful as you.

2. Do not regift something that's been monogrammed. If your initials are "M.C.D." and they're printed on a cap, don't regift the cap to a friend, unless you can convince him that "M.C.D." stands for "Merry Christmas, Dude."

3. If an item is scratched or dented, do not regift it. The gift should look brand new, with no more than a few dozen fingerprints. Whatever you do, don't try to take advantage of any friends who are visually impaired. Just remember: They've got feelings. And they'll catch you.

4. Don't regift anything with a company logo printed on it, unless it has four wheels and an exhaust. Don't even think of regifting mugs, key chains and pens that say "2004 Republican National Convention." Friendships have been lost on far less.

5. Do not reuse the card you received with a gift. This is a bad idea, even if you have a convenient name and can change the words "Love, dad" to "Love, Soledad."

Photo by Shopping Diva

Dear Santa, I'm on your side

Dear Santa,

It’s been almost 365 days since I wrote to you and I want to begin by telling you that the gift you brought me last Christmas just didn’t cut it. I don’t know where you picked up that lousy beard trimmer. I guess it was silly of me to expect someone like you to know anything about beard trimmers.

Before I give you my wish list for this Christmas, I’m sure you want to know whether I’ve been naughty or nice. I’ve been extremely nice, Santa. Unlike you, I haven’t said “ho ho ho” to anyone. I haven’t called a single person “ho,” not even a married one. But I did get slapped in the garden center of Wal-Mart when I asked for a certain digging implement. People are just so touchy these days.

Don’t get me wrong, Santa. I support your right to say “ho ho ho” to anyone you please. People who complain about that are just horrible and hopeless and probably offended that those words begin with ‘ho.’

I’m on your side, Santa, that’s what I want to say. I don’t agree with the U.S. Surgeon General, who believes you’re fat and unhealthy and a poor role model for kids. You’ve always been a good role model for me, Santa. At dinner time, when I’m trying to decide whether to have another slice of pizza, I always ask myself, “What would Santa do?” And then I eat five more.

I also disagree with the people who want you to stop saying “Merry Christmas” because it might offend people of other religions. It’s so easy to get offended these days, Santa. I could get offended every time someone says “What’s up?” to me. Frankly, Santa, I’m getting old and there’s nothing up anymore. Well, aside from my cholesterol, that is.

Listen, Santa, I’d prefer it if you didn’t say “Happy Holidays!” That’s just so dull and insipid. Instead of that, why not say “Merry Christmas!” to Christians and “Happy Diwali” to Hindus? And if you’re not sure if someone is Christian or Hindu, just say, “Merry Chriswali!”

I’m running out of space, Santa, so I’d better start my wish list. The first thing I’d like this Christmas is a full tank of gas. It’s getting too expensive to drive my car. I wish the gas station would change its name to “Exxon Bank,” so I wouldn’t feel so bad about depositing all my money there. (If you can’t afford to get me a full tank of gas, then just bring me an electric or hybrid car, Santa. Perhaps a Lexus that I can drive all the way to Texas.)

I’d also like one of those things that young people wear on their ears. I think it’s called a cell phone. Actually, I’d like two of them, Santa, one for each ear. That would make it easier for me to talk to myself. Frankly, Santa, I don’t know whom all those young people are talking to. I wish someone would call me –- other than that darn telemarketer in Bangalore.

I’d also like a blackberry, Santa. Perhaps an apple too. They’re not for me, Santa, they’re for my nephew. He’s always asking for fruit. I asked him if he likes any vegetables and he said something about “black-eyed peas.”

I’d also like one of those musical devices. I think it’s called an iPod. I could buy it myself, Santa, but my wife might object. I’d prefer to just say “iPod” to her, without having to say “iPaid.”

Finally, Santa, I’d like a pair of glasses. One for wine and the other for beer. I don’t usually drink, Santa, but I have a feeling my wife will –- as soon as she sees the latest deposit slip.

Photo by laughingboyottawa

Dear Santa, I'm on your side

Dear Santa,

It’s been almost 365 days since I wrote to you and I want to begin by telling you that the gift you brought me last Christmas just didn’t cut it. I don’t know where you picked up that lousy beard trimmer. I guess it was silly of me to expect someone like you to know anything about beard trimmers.

Before I give you my wish list for this Christmas, I’m sure you want to know whether I’ve been naughty or nice. I’ve been extremely nice, Santa. Unlike you, I haven’t said “ho ho ho” to anyone. I haven’t called a single person “ho,” not even a married one. But I did get slapped in the garden center of Wal-Mart when I asked for a certain digging implement. People are just so touchy these days.

Don’t get me wrong, Santa. I support your right to say “ho ho ho” to anyone you please. People who complain about that are just horrible and hopeless and probably offended that those words begin with ‘ho.’

I’m on your side, Santa, that’s what I want to say. I don’t agree with the U.S. Surgeon General, who believes you’re fat and unhealthy and a poor role model for children. You’ve always been a good role model for me, Santa. At dinner time, when I’m trying to decide whether to have another slice of pizza, I always ask myself, “What would Santa do?” And then I eat five more.

I also disagree with the people who want you to stop saying “Merry Christmas” because it might offend people of other religions. It’s so easy to get offended these days, Santa. I could get offended every time someone says “What’s up?” to me. Frankly, Santa, I’m getting old and there’s nothing up anymore. Well, aside from my cholesterol, that is.

Listen, Santa, I’d prefer it if you didn’t say “Happy Holidays!” That’s just so dull and insipid. Instead of that, why not say “Merry Christmas!” to Christians and “Happy Diwali” to Hindus? And if you’re not sure if someone is Christian or Hindu, just say, “Merry Chriswali!”

I’m running out of space, Santa, so I’d better start my wish list. The first thing I’d like this Christmas is a full tank of gas. It’s getting too expensive to drive my car. I wish the gas station would change its name to “Exxon Bank,” so I wouldn’t feel so bad about depositing all my money there. (If you can’t afford to get me a full tank of gas, then just bring me an electric or hybrid car, Santa. Perhaps a Lexus that I can drive all the way to Texas.)

I’d also like one of those things that young people wear on their ears. I think it’s called a cell phone. Actually, I’d like two of them, Santa, one for each ear. That would make it easier for me to talk to myself. Frankly, Santa, I don’t know whom all those young people are talking to. I wish someone would call me – other than that darn telemarketer in Bangalore.

I’d also like a blackberry, Santa. Perhaps an apple too. They’re not for me, Santa, they’re for my nephew. He’s always asking for fruit. I asked him if he likes any vegetables and he said something about “black-eyed peas.”

I’d also like one of those musical devices. I think it’s called an iPod. I could buy it myself, Santa, but my wife might object. I’d prefer to just say “iPod” to her, without having to say “iPaid.”

Finally, Santa, I’d like a pair of glasses. One for wine and the other for beer. I don’t usually drink, Santa, but I have a feeling my wife will – as soon as she sees the latest deposit slip.

Photo by laughingboyottawa