Reason #356 why to shop online for XMAS

Unknowingly lured from my throne thinking that it was “only two stores”, I accompany Wifey to the mall—with the potential for her "attention", shall we say ,would increase if I shut my mouth and just came along...

Our first stop was some clothing store for girls. Charlottes’ something or other. I forget. I could feel the air leave my lungs as I cautiously took the first step ...there was only one other guy in the place who had the same painful look on his face as I did-ashen and pale. It appeared that he too was suffering the effects of hypoxia.

Everything in the store looks like you're supposed to wear it underneath your
clothes, not on the outside--if this were at the “old mall” I could find a
bench outside the store and wait--this “new mall” has that “downtown feel” and it’s raining and cold outside so I can't opt out.

Five minutes, then ten....while the mercury slowly plummets from my man
thermometer. My power diminishes rapidly and the hopes of a sporting goods store or that place that sells all the baseball hats is the only thing that keeps me going..Maybe there's a pretzel store or cinnamon bun place somewhere at one of these places that will help me endure this death march....

Brought back to reality by Wifeys’ voice saying "hold these please" thrusting two hangars with "Tops" on them (Tops is what girls call shirts) --
We walk back and forth now, looking at the same clothing for a second time.

I notice the other guy in the store. He's holding a couple of hangars and has removed his ball cap, mopping his brow. Like me, we stand off to the side in the same fashion as a third base coach whilst our spouses shop. I feel his pain and I'm sure he feels mine. We don't know each other but for now we are brothers joined as one in a sense of non purpose.

My keeper snaps her fingers and I heel—its time to check out.

The lady bags up the purchases and Wifey says "give it to my butler" which
tickled the other ladies. 10,000 comedians out of work and Wifey’s trying to be funny.

Our second stop was some clothing store for girls. Crazy Chucks, Charming Charlie’s, or something. I forget.

It’s obviously more "hip" than the other place based on the numbers of young people.

Charlie E. Cheeses, or whatever its called (like I said I forget) had a young man working there-he had a headset on for communication with the other workers up front and its my guess that he hadn't ever fished, golfed, played ball, or field dressed a dead animal before—I further surmise that this person may even be Charles E. Charmwagon himself-- but I wasn't going to “ask or tell " because my wife gave me another hangar to hold...

She stops at a rack full of necklaces one may have seen on the Flintstones-as they looked like they were made from rocks.

You see, how it works is you get the shirt--I mean, TOP, then you have to what they call "accessorize" it--in this case, a Flintstone necklace, bracelet, and earrings-even a ladies wallet and it ALL--- every damn bit of it, mind you--- has to match.

Now, I isn't totally an ignoranimous --I have a Wifey, two daughters and have worked with women so I know a little about how the enemy thinks when it comes to fashion--but I digress-

What’s important to note is the state of my well being. I'm still shopping with Wifey and I have one collapsed lung and the other is on a banana peel.

Then I had to tinkle. Not the greatest timing, but bodily functions will buy one some time when one shops with ones Wifey.

Crisis averted

Whoduhthunkit but Charlene’s’ had a male latrine with a very manly unfinished concrete floor with a drain hole (I used the regular toilet though) Just outside the door was a water fountain to re-hydrate myself.
My luck continued though as I found a bench inside the store to rest for 5
minutes and catch my breath until I was summoned for checkout—at which time Mr. Chuckwagon Charms checked us out himself, headset and all.

Outdoors finally, the fresh air and oxygen bring relief and I inhale like Seabiscuit in the home stretch. Outside turned to inside in a nanosecond as we duck into a clothing store for teenagers of both sexes and quite possibly some who are a little of both. Aeropostcard or something. I forget.

I'm now at the point of rather peeing on an electric fence than to "shop"
any longer—

I look out the window and spot an "oasis" in this desert wasteland of retail
sales--it is the Wild Wing Cafe-I know for a fact there's a bounty of ice cold Yuengling lager, pictures of baseball players on the wall, and a sundry of
Pub grub, all suitable for eating and with the right amount of carbs to
sustain me in this hell-a-thon. I find a place to sit and patiently take
cleansing breaths...Wifey engages my fashion taste by asking “What color Red or Tan?” I say “Red”. “White or Black?” I say “White”. “Blue or Green?” I say “White”. Red White and Blue, baby—till I die.

Which may be soon.


Get in Line

Wifey says she's almost done and if I secure her a place in line she will be
back in a jiffy. (Fellas don't ever fall for this trick) I stood in line
for about a minute and I would have been called next and so I call out for
Wifey to come on and she says I'm not ready yet-the look given to me by the
other patrons in line who WERE ready to check out says it all and puts me in
my place next to the whale doo-doo already at the oceans bottom.

I go back to my bench and reclaim the butterbean sized butt indentations I had just vacated--There dang well WILL be a Yuengling lager in my future and I didn’t care if there were going to be any potential for “attention” later that night. I had to deal with the now.


I yawn. I look at my watch. I yawn again. This is oxygen deprivation-I
increase my threat level to DEFCON 3.

I look down at my watch and calculate the total shopping time. One hour and thirty three minutes.

I'm living on borrowed time and I know it.


Phase 2-I was saved for the moment by lunch. We found a place that didn’t have a 45 minute wait. The All American Slider burgers gave me a new lease on life-and the Yuengling Lager on draft that I washed it down with..well, as Ben Franklin purportedly said, “Beer is proof that God loves us
and wants us to be happy”.

I am a man refreshed.

We begin heading for home, with a couple more stops to regular stores before we call it a day. I am totally psyched that the man cave and the Pottamus Rex are only minutes away. Maybe there’s even an afternoon nap in my future. Life is good. I’m George Bailey.

SNAFU

Fast forward....its almost 1800 hours, and my body feels as if it was hit by a
convoy of cement trucks with full loads. The great lunch and Yuengling lager induced "buzz" (as well as my will to live) dissipated somewhere in the house wares section of Kohl’s- Wifey again left me stranded in the long line because she forgot something, but with 20 folks in front of us she could have left to perform surgery and be back in time.

We still have to go to the drugstore and grocery store.

If I make it in bed by 2100 hrs tonight it will be a miracle.

The woman in the car who resembles my Wifey scares me. Her eyes are fully dilated and glazed over --she is a woman possessed.
--------------------------
Tis’ the season, you know. I'm George Bailey.

I'm the only hell my Grandma ever raised..

Did mention that I WORSHIPPED my Grandma?

Today is my Grandmas birthday-December 3rd, and not a day goes by that I don't think of her. My oldest daughter and first child Amanda was named after her. My Grandmother meant so much to me that I have evaluated all other Grandmas I have known or met by some of the following guidelines--

-Some of the intangibles about being a good Grandma-- (JUST SOME)

-Carry chewing gum in your purse (Dentyne or Juicy Fruit)

-Always carry purse with straps held at the bend in arm

-Don't have false teeth-this scares the bejeezus out of grand kids

-Tobacco and alcohol forbidden

-Only say "HELL" when answering the question of how you feel after a radical
Mastectomy for breast cancer in 1971

-Take your grand kids to the train station downtown to watch the Nancy Hanks come in-huddle them in your long coat and make sure co-cola in the little glass bottle and toms peanuts are served.

-Take them to wherever they want to go eat after church, even if it means leaving after Sunday school and skipping the big service in the sanctuary

-Have water in a clear bottle in the fridge, not an old Prune Juice
bottle (my other grandma did that—she also pinched snuff and had false teeth--I remain traumatized by it all)

- Cook Fried Chicken at least three times a week because its Little Georges favorite

-Cook everything with the secret ingredient—LOVE

-give grandson a dime to help you wash dishes-take to Bills book store and let him buy a dollars worth with his dime

-when he has the mumps and cries when it hurts, take him in your arms and hug him until he quits crying (it worked-I ain't had the mumps since)

when sick, deliver to Grandmas house and put on couch for
4-6 hrs-spoil as necessary, then send home MIRACULOUSLY cured

-Wear the blue dress with the big white plastic buttons—it’s his favorite

-teach him how to sew, he will be thankful when 30 years later his wife needs a button sewn on her blouse.

- let him help in the kitchen and ask many bothersome questions-it will last
a lifetime and his favorite room in the house will always be the kitchen

-act surprised when he throws the quarter in the bed for the "magic fingers"


-don't be surprised that he brings all his dates to meet you first

there's more---but it has me about to cry right now---