I started writing todays piece yesterday. About half way through I realized that I shouldn't be anywhere near a keyboard so I saved what I had written, planning to finish early today. So much for the best laid plans of mice, Republicans and men. They sometimes have to be changed to accomodate a crazed female who discovered that she had forgotten to buy a gift for her best girlfriend. Since she had to work today, my phone rang this morning at 7:00 Am. After being told that I would be going to the mall today - again, I made the mistake of suggesting that a pre-paid Visa card would do just fine. My suggestion elicited nothing but dead air. The dead air was followed by the lady giving me my marching orders - I was going to the mall to buy a gift for someone I like only a little bit, and I knew when I was getting ready that no matter what I picked out - it would be wrong. I knew that I would have to play the twenty question game, that would end poorly - for me. But being the nice guy that I am I made the trip. It wasn't as bad as yesterdays trip.
Thursday is normally my friends day off. We usually just chill out, relax, and have a nice day. Wednesday evening the lady called me to inform me that we would be spending her day off at the friggin mall! Going to the mall on Dec. 23rd is not my idea of a good idea, and since everyone knows that real men don't even think about shopping until the 24th, I wasn't happy. Not going was not an option presented to me, so I figured that I would make the best of a bad situation, smile and go along with the madness.
When the lady picked me up yesterday morning I was handed a piece of paper. She had made each one of us a list of things to buy, which stores to buy them in and times that we should meet up to compare the progress being made. I asked why we weren't going to shop together - why the split up? "You walk too slow (my wheels are sometimes compromised from the sugar). This way we'll get done sooner." She had gone to the mall website and knew where every store was located, and had written it all down on my list. Fortunately I was given the task of shopping for her brothers and her son, so at least I didn't have to put up with missy and fat lady departments where crazed female types would be fighting each other for the right to purchase the latest and greatest fashions.
So we get to the mall to begin our quest to find the perfect gifts. Walking into the place told me right away that this was not going to make my top ten list of favorite things to do. At the entrance was a lady reading the riot act to one of her kids. The kid had made the mistake of reminding his polyester clad mother that she had promised him that they would stop for a snack after they had finished with the shopping. The kid now knows that the promise was only made to shut him up, and that he could never trust his mother again. I certainly understand making a false promise to a kid in order to shut him/her up, but it did disturb me at how joyful the ladies face looked as she was smacking his butt. I hoped that he would be the only screaming kid I would see here. He wasn't.
When we got to the main part of the mall and went on our separate missions, all I could see were throngs of wild eyed women rushing about. There were the posses of teenagers doing their shopping while holding phones to their ears. They don't talk, they just hold the phones to their ears. What is that all about?
Weaving my way through the maddening crowd I was able to find the first stop on my list - Modells. My task was to pick out a jogging suit for brother Ray, who wears nothing but athletic apparel. He doesn't ever jog or work out, but like a lot of guys, he likes to create an image. The right image is important where he lives so I wanted to find somethin' special for him. The store was crowded, but I found where the jogging outfits were and was able after a period of time to match up a top and bottom. That was the hard part since the racks looked like a grenade had gone off. The smalls were where the XL's were supposed to be; the Nike's were hanging with the Addidas and it took some doing, but with the help of a rather cute young lady I was able to find something I thought he would like, and under budget.
The lines to pay were long and it took longer before I heard "do you have a Modells card" than it did to find the outfit. I said that I didn't have one and didn't want one. The kids at the register must be trained not to hear no, because I had to hear why I should get one. When I said no for the second time the kid finally rang my purchase up and I was able to scratch off Rays name from my list and move on to my next assignment.
My lady had done a good job making up my list and her directions were right on. My next stop was at a Gamestop. Gamestops are a problem for a non-gamer like the long suffering fan. When I am king - all games will work in all of the game systems unlike now when you have to know what kind of system you are buying for. It is very confusing. I wanted to get this right because if I brought home a game that didn't work in the kids system it would mean I would be making another trip to the mall. I was under strict instructions to buy nothing with a violent or adult content. Good luck with that. That could mean buying Madden football or some other sports game, but the kid isn't into sports. Like most 13 year olds he would rather have a game where he could slaughter hundreds and save the world. This was a set up since whatever I picked out that would please the lady - the kid would hate. Not being able to find anything on the $30.00 section I settled for a game based on Star Wars - movies that he likes. Games shouldn't cost $69.00, but they do.
One more stop before our first meet up. Stop number three was easy and I went to the rendezvous point to wait for the lady. She arrived a few minutes later and was in a full state of craze. After that we both finished our shopping and headed for the car to try and exit the mall. It took almost a half hour to get out of the parking lot, but out we got and headed on back to her place where the real madness started - the wrapping.
Aside from the crowds - which I don't care for - the thing that completely messes with my mind is the Christmas music that one is forced to listen to while shopping. Do the merchants really think that making me hear Bing Crosby sing White Christmas will make me want to spend all of my money at their store? It doesn't. Listening to a choir of eunuchs singing about riding in an open sleigh makes me want to scream, not spend money for that very special gift. No, rather it makes me want to point the business end of an AK 47 to every speaker in the store and in the mall.
Anyhow, there I was back at the friggin mall today buying her best friend a new bathrobe. Why a bathrobe you ask? It was a bathrobe because that is what I was told to buy. I was told to pick out a nice one - a special one, because she is my best friend. What women will never understand is that on Dec 24 anything you buy is special to any real man. The merchants have stores full of special shit - just ask them. I had no problem finding that "special" robe. Shit, there were at least three for me to choose from, and it happened that the least expensive one was the most special of all.
After buying the robe, while I was walking out of the mall I couldn't help but admire how many men were walking around doing their shopping. They didn't look crazed. They didn't seem to care that in a few hours the stores would all be closed, and whatever hadn't been bought wasn't going to make the trips home. These are my heroes - the real men who wait until the last possible moment, and still get the job done. It's kind of like waiting until the night before the important term paper is due before you write it. No problem, as long as you get the job done.
So anyway. I drive back to where my lady works - tell her of my success - return her car keys to her and head on home. I suspect that she will call when she sees the robe, now safely ensconced in her trunk, to ask me if it was the nicest one I could find. I won't want to play that game, so I plan to tell her that it was indeed the nicest one they had in size 5XL, and that bright red will cover her rather large derriere very well (I won't really say that because I hope to stay alive a bit longer).
So after I got home I read some of the stuff that I enjoy and watched the videos that are allegedly of Jets coach Rex Ryan's wife playing with her feet. If you haven't heard, a story surfaced the other day that a video of Michelle Ryan was making the rounds on the internet and that a man sounding very much like the coach was heard in the background "coaching" her on her fetish techniques. When asked about this by the ultra-professional NY sports press the coach said that what he and his wife are into is personal and that he wouldn't answer any questions regarding the alleged fetish.
The long suffering fan is not into feet. I certainly wouldn't want to hang out or play footsie with a lady who has foul smelling tootsies, but if the coach and his wife are into such things - I could care less. I got no delight from the videos showing the lady playing with her toes - and who knows maybe all she was trying to do was count to 20. I would have paid attention if the videos showed the coach on his hands and knees playing sucky face with her toes, but they didn't so let's move on to more interesting topics. Although, he is a FOOTball coach, and maybe he is looking for new techniques to teach his kickers. Just a thought gang (You can find the videos at Deadspin.com).
That's about all for now, except to wish everybody a Merry Christmas. For those of you who like me do not celebrate this holiday, enjoy your Chinese food.
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