The 12 unusual gifts of Christmas

I'm only going to run through this once, because otherwise it's gonna get stuck in my head and nothing will get it out, shy of an ice pick. I don't want to put an ice pick in my ear so just ... listen.

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me a Bones Hi-Vis Training Jacket from Foska.com. It's a difficult thing, getting me to ride my bike, but I may be tempted to do it just to show off this water-repellent and fully breathable black windbreaker emblazoned with a reflective skeleton outline. Even the least attentive of nighttime motorists will notice a dead guy riding a bike. So cool.

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me a few Dream Dollars, the currency of the lost Antarctic colony of Nadiria. In actuality, the currency and the colony are the fanciful creations of artist Stephen Barnwell. Though it has no real monetary value, it's very agreeable to hold a fistful of Dream Dollars (the thirteen-dollar bill, the violet-colored ninety-one-dollar bill and yes, even the three-hundred-sixty-five-dollar bill) and imagine the kind of economy where such exquisite-looking currency was coin of the realm.

On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me the third season of "Home Movies" on DVD. Of all the animated shows on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim — and with no malice intended towards "The Venture Brothers," "The Boondocks" and "Aqua Teen Hunger Force" — I'd argue that "Home Movies" is the smartest of the batch. Season 3 is when "Home Movies" really hits its stride and becomes the funniest show ever about "nothing," eclipsing even the almighty "Seinfeld." Just look past the animation, which is deliberately and even defiantly minimal, and concentrate on the laughs, which come from all possible angles.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love rolled up in a Rhinokart, a pedal-powered go-cart that just recently came to these shores. Its works are simple, basically similar to the coaster bike you may have owned as a kid, but the Rhinokart's sleek, low-slung design may draw a few interested adults as well. Rhinokarts are to classic go-carts as the iPod is to the Sony Walkman — it fills the same need, true, but with oh so much more style. Expect to see a lot of these sweet little rides around the Northwest before long.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love put on a Braille T-shirt from notvanilla designs. A Braille T-shirt is pretty much exactly what you think it is. It's worth noting that the designer has included an "anti-grope feature" — a translation of the Braille message printed along the inside hem. It can be flipped up at a moment's notice to discourage would-be translators.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love slapped me with some Think Geek Iron-On Patches for jackets and backpacks, emblazoned with the legends "Geek," "Hacker," "Gamer," "Tux" and "31337." Sadly, I'm not a true geek. I don't know Linux, and my video-game system is several years old, but I can sew one of these patches to a Dickies jacket and, you know, pretend.

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love busted out a Knockman from the mighty alien-toy intelligence at Kid Robot. All Knockman does is dance the hula and make agreeable chimes when I twist the knob on his back. And you know something? That's all he has to do. It's substantially more than I did in the 10 years after I finished high school. Go, Knockman. Go.

On the eighth day of Christmas, we had chips. More accurately, she subscribed me to Anchor O'Reilly's Potato Chip of the Month Club. I'd tell you more about these beauties — Dirty Chips' Jalapeno Heat, Rusty's "Island Style" Chips, Poore Brothers' Mesquite BBQ Chips — but the missus doesn't want me talking with my mouth full. Weirds her out.

That's one baaaaaad button.

On the ninth day of Christmas, we received the gift of Bad Buttons. A friend from warmer climes once asked me, "Hey, do you wear jackets up there in Seattle? What's it like?" I told him it was all kinds of fun to wear jackets because you could cover them with sloganeering pins, much like the ones you can get from Bad Buttons. My personal favorites say "I Write" and "I like big butts & I cannot lie," while my girl is partial to "Critical theory slut" and many of the buttons from the "Queer" section.

On the tenth day: Extinct Attractions Club DVDs, because my girl understands (and yet does not share) my Disneyland fixation. True to its name, this site specializes in DVDs of rides and attractions from Disneyland and other theme parks that no longer exist, compiled mostly from home movies. Recently, series producer Dave Oneal began profiling many of the Disney employees who actually designed and built the Carousel of Progress, Adventure Thru Inner Space and the like, and the stories they tell are fascinating enough even to grab my girl's attention, even though she probably wouldn't have liked the rides themselves.

Day eleven: My true love sent me to Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab to purchase some of their one-of-a-kind perfume oils. "Just pick out whatever you want me to smell like," she said, and I chose Absinthe, Voodoo, Juke Joint, Grog, Brimstone, Sugar Cookie and Grand Guignol, all of which are a lot nicer than they sound. Yes, they're gothic scents, but they're unique gothic scents, and any Morticia who dabs some Black Alchemy on her neck will certainly drive the Gomez of her choosing to certain distraction.

Finally, on the twelfth day of Christmas — actually well-past Christmas, because they're back-ordered — my true love gave to me some custom-printed M&Ms. You choose the colors and a two-line announcement, and Mars, Inc. will send you a message that will melt in your mouth and not in your hand.

Once we finish the last of these candies, it will nearly be time to start this process all over again. Though next year, I may set it to a different tune.

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