Not-So-Secret Santa and McWang

McWang is Stephanie’s signature sandwich.  She swears by the spicy and tangy short-rib sandwich.  If you were a sandwich, what kinda sandwich would you be?  Steph originally tried to pass McWang for a pulled pork sandwich; she was promptly booed.

 Anyway, my roommates and I just completed a secret Santa.  Out of a total of 5 of us, only 1 did not know who anyone’s secret Santa was, two knew one, maybe two, and two of us (including me) knew everyone. 

What happened?  Well, for starters, everyone was very sloppy.  I, personally, kicked off the sloppiness two weeks ago when we were drawing names from a hat.  I jokingly exclaimed oh no! when I saw my name.  Yes it was a complete joke, but the joking-thought was seeded in the fact that I drew the new roommate’s name.  It is difficult enough to get 4 gifts for anyone, much less 4 gifts for someone you hardly know.  Anywho, it was joke, but new roommate is very smart and perceptive (she might, in fact, be a Jedi – there have been other signs) and knew immediately it must be me.  Fixable problem, but it only got worse.

On Sunday, Steph and I were on the elevator.  Exacerbated after a long day, Steph rubs her eyes and exclaims “gosh I don’t know what I am going to get Tamara for her last gift.”  One down.

Later that night I was talking with the girls and we were trying to come up with a system for delivering the gifts, we failed to reach a conclusion.

 The very next morning as we were leaving for work, mistake number two.  Kenji leaves the earliest and then usually Steph and I walk out at the same time while Natasha finishes up and Tamara hits snooze.  On this morning, Kenji is gone, Steph and I are in our respective rooms dressing, checking email, whatever, we hear footsteps (heals or likely boots) walk toward our cluster of rooms - walk away – door slam - out the apartment.  We both exit our respective rooms around the same time to see a gift placed in front of Kenji’s door.  What the fuck?  Tamara’s alarm, no Natasha, two down.

 Attempting to salvage secret Santa, we take the gift and put it in a big basket located in the common room.  We then leave a post-it on Tamara’s door telling her to drop her gift and run - no snooping on the honor system.  Steph also dropped her gift, since I knew her person, and I wait on mine.  We then send an email to the group advising of protocol. 

 

That night, we give out gifts.  I get mine – chocolate!  Steph, later but in front of the group, goes “that’s all you got, chocolate!?!”  Tamara got suspiciously defensive firing back “It’s Godiva!”  Hmm.  Steph’s gift: cookie cutters, candy, and several cookie recipes.  Very thoughtful, hmm, Kenji is thoughtful.  Hmm.  Still later, Steph glanced into Kenji’s room and notices a piece of the same candy on his floor.  Careless, Kenji, very careless. 

 

Next night, gift exchange.  I get a gift from Bed, Bath, and Beyond, SLIPPERS!  In casual conversation, Tamara is talking about a gift she picked up for her mother.  I ask her where she got it.  She said “Bed, Bath, and Beyond…er, I mean – uh, um, uh [red face] body shop.”  I played nice and let her slide. 

 

Next morning on the elevator Steph ruins it for me, explicitly.  I kind of knew all of them but was trying not to think about it.  She shared the Kenji chocolate detail and also the observation about Tamara from the last two nights, it was over for us both. 

 

Well that’s pretty much it… aside from us switching wrapping paper to throw off my Secret-Santee and make her think it might be Steph (or, as she later mentioned, the possibility that Steph and I were in cahoots --- told you, JEDI).. and aside from Kenji getting frustrated at Steph’s constant hints that she knew who her secret Santa was and then saying I know you know it’s me (or something like that).  Tsk, Tsk. 

 

We had our final dinner at a cute restaurant called 1492 (we couldn’t get into Freedman’s and I refused Les Halles because I’ve sworn off anything French) exchanged final gifts and I promised this tell all.  Oh, and I got a really nice Heirloom Wood Journal as my final gift, which I apparently said would be a perfect gift when talking to Tamara last Friday while blacked out drunk.  But that is an entirely different story altogether.  If I ever post the story, it will be entitled “Sloppy.”