Attention, loved ones. Yes, all six of you. This was going to be the year I stepped it up a notch in the Christmas gift department. Thanks to some good old fashioned gambling, prostitution, general chicanery and T-shirt sales, I finally had a few extra greenbacks in my slender wallet. And this, I figured, was the year to make up for past gift-giving offenses. No more one-slice-at-a-time toasters or Ronco Pocket Fishermen or homemade Punky Brewster DVDs. This year, I was going all iPhones and laptops and front row tickets to the Van Halen reunion tour on your asses.

At least, I planned to. Until I saw this.

That’s right, bitches. Dinner for 8 at Tresca in the North End. With Peter Gammons, AKA THE GAMMONS, AKA My totally hetero mancrush. And, as an added bonus, Bill Janovitz from Buffalo Tom, the official houseband of Surviving Grady. Dudes, it’s like someone read the contents of my mind and projected it into an eBay listing (minus the chicks in hotpants, natch, but I’m sure they’ll be there, too.)

Bidding is currently at $1000. But since this is dinner for 8, all I need are 7 loyal SG readers to hop on this magical boat with me, and together, we will sail the magic waves to a private audience with Peter Gammons. Who’s down? Who’s gonna step up and make this happen? As Deval Patrick once said, “Together, we can… have dinner with Peter Gammons and Bill Janovitz at a cozy North End restaurant.” Hey, that platform earned him my vote, so why shouldn’t he get his own Cadillac limo and private cook and comfy job for the wife?

Hell, it could all be one big hoax for all I know, like that time the Feds set up an elaborate Amalie Benjamin Make-Out Booth just to entrap me for questioning on some unpaid taxes. But I’m so swept up in it I can’t let it go. I figure this is as close as I’ll ever get to shaking hands with THE GAMMONS without breaking some sort of international stalking law. So I thank you, Boston Music Awards, for making this dream accessible to the common man. The common man with at least $1000 to spend on dinner.

Oh, and to my loved ones, I’ll make it up next year. But, yeah, no gifts for 2007.