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It’s that time of year, folks: that time of year when the bratty inlaws pull out last years present to re-gift, the time of year that makes you dread hitting the department store with that long list of overpriced goodies that makes you think “Why doesn’t anyone want a nice, classic BOOK anymore? What the hell is a Kinect?” And suddenly…GREED. Suddenly you watch a little more Gossip Girl, spend a little too long in the two for one section wondering if Aunt Suzie would like a pair of Stuart Wietzman riding boots so you can snag a pair yourself.  Stores just have a way of making everything seem more…festive. Buyer’s Remorse is a thing of the past that has only been holding you back from good ol’ Bergdorf Goodman and the Estee Lauder beauty bonus.  You anxiously wonder about whether or not Uncle Steve will FINALLY get the right thing and pull an ix-nay on the stupid knit sweaters he thinks are ‘ironic’.  It’s a dream…until your broke. I guess toy could say I’ve travelled the road paved with gold and returned with a new sequin miniskirt, but when the guilt and hate sets in, it hits you hard. Harder than that time you bought a Louis Vuitton purse online and it turned out to be fake. Harder than the day you spent $1000 at Home Sense on lawn decorations. Because at least those times you had a scrape of dignity. This time you look back and remember literally SIGHING WITH PLEASURS OUTSIDE SEPHORA AS YOU LOOKED AT THE NEW DISPLAY. You hate yourself for it. I’ll tell you one thing: when you’re biggest dream is inheriting Manolo Blahnik’s happiness is fewer and farther between than a Chanel boutique and a Giant Tiger. 

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