Neiman Marcus Christmas Book
Well well well. What have we here? The Neiman Marcus Christmas Book has arrived. And Neiman Marcus ships to Hong Kong. SHIPS TO HONG KONG. If you know what's good for you, jot down my suggestions in your day planner. I HATE to be surprised at Christmas.
OMG Ewok designer treehouse condo! I MUST have this. Even if I have to timeshare with a bunch of incomprehensible wacked out teddy bears who are too primitive to appreciate Wallpaper*.
With these photo frames I will be able to display pictures of my crazy cold-eyed ancestors who lived and died as one happy family in the same state-run asylum.
There's something about a photo booth that brings out the miscreant in even the most wholesome of poet yodellers. The way Hong Kong property prices are going, I could also rent it out as a spare room.
Something to put outside the front door. It will terrorise people into believing that Sam the world's ugliest dog lives here.
The gift of extra underwear is always appreciated. God knows it's so easy to wake up these days and find your underwear on somebody else's head. There are seven per pack but don't be stingy - spring for two packs so that I can have one for each month.
Fascinating stuff that I could house in my own fortress of solitude, which incidentally has amazing panoramic views. It just hangs in mid-air with "no visible means of support". Must be the same technology used in Tori Spelling's breasts.
Does this man come in a colour other than cream? I fear he may dirty too easily.
If you buy me this fetching camel tweed suit, I will let you serenade me with a rousing showtune medley and gaze longngly at me from behind your piano. As the seasons change I will alternate it with other suits of varying thickness and eventually you will die of unrequited love and consumption.