My most aggravating gift by far this year was an AirSwimmer Remote Control Shark. In concept, it’s awesome, and once you get it assembled, it’s fun to play with, but getting it to that point is an exercise in frustration. Special shark tape that didn’t want to remove from the sheet, poorly written instructions, and an infuriating counterbalance system that has you putting tiny pieces of putty into a receptacle on the shark and then digging it out again when you find it’s now too heavy except your finger is too big for the hole and then putting some back in when you find it’s now too light and then digging it out again and putting another tiny piece back in until you’re overwhelmed with the urge to punch a shark in the face…and then you discover it’s finally balanced at perfect punching height.
It was fun to fly around, though.
It’s scared the hell out of me twice now. Jason thought it was an awesome idea to store it in the bedroom unbeknownst to me, and air currents made it pop out of the bedroom right as I was walking down the hallway, eliciting a primo scream and an Olympic quality high-jump. For some reason (laziness, probably), we kept it in the bedroom in the corner, and at one point during the night I woke up and it was floating low directly over our heads on the bed. I smirked and decided that a good morning scare would be fine retribution for Jason…except the heat clicked on and it began swimming by itself through the room. Apparently the sight of a million year old predator gliding by itself in the dark overhead while I’m glassesless and vulnerable triggers some sort of primal fear mechanic and I clawed at the light on the table next to the bed, waking Jason up and shrieking “THIS FUCKING THING HAS GOT TO GO”…so that happened. Probably the day will come when I end up stabbing the shark in the middle of the night because I can’t take it anymore.
The most aggravating gift I gave Jason was the touchable bubbles…which are totally fun until you realize they stain absolutely freaking everything in the house. I threw a shirt that was a bubble casualty into the wash (after a vigorous pre-washing) with some sheets and now the sheets are stained, too. Christmas is definitely more fun when you don’t have to clean up the messes you make.