Ode to the male shopper
A last-minute buyer's cautionary tale
http://www.winnipegfreepress.com/local/ode-to-the-male-shopper-136130363.html
Not a woman was shopping, not a single one at all
The stores were jam-packed as far as you could see
With desperate male shoppers, bozos like me
The women were home wrapping, with ribbons and glue
They'd finished their shopping back in 2002
Us guys? We're just starting, to that I can vouch
We spent December napping, curled up on the couch
Now sweating profusely, with eyes all ablaze
We hunt for presents, manly zombies in a daze
Our wallets are stuffed, our credit cards ready
We'll buy almost anything: a bathrobe, a teddy
We do the same stupid thing, year after year
Put off all our shopping to eat snacks and drink beer
So now in a panic, we root through the stores
At the lingerie shops, we peer through the doors
We're afraid of lacy things, so we gaze from afar
Heck, it took us six hours to park the (bad word) car
We can't find a clerk, and they all seem so lazy
Listening to carols for months has driven them crazy
Our kids and our wives, they deserve so much better
Than bargain-bin toys, or a holiday sweater
See that jerk over there, the one crying by the door
He's clearly gone mad, he's shopped here before
But I won't give up, I'll browse till I die
My family will disown me if the perfect gift I don't buy
The kids want junk I wouldn't touch with a broom
Like, Alien Death Star or Zombie Killers of Doom
My wife isn't that fussy, it shows in her eyes
But I have no clue what she likes, or if it comes in her size
Time is running out, there are decisions to make
God help me if I repeat last year's shopping mistake
I thought it was brilliant, what I put 'neath the tree
It was the sort of present I wish she'd given to me
But apparently women do not get a big thrill
From a power tool set with a quarter-inch drill
So us guys trudge along at a very slow trot
Would our spouses be happy with Belgian chocolate?
As time ticks away, we start to grow frantic
What kind of (bad word) present makes a woman romantic?
A toaster? An iron? Some six-inch high heels?
Forgive us, we're guys, we're just spinning our wheels
What's that over there? It looks shiny and neat
That other guy wants it! His face I will beat
My Christmas spirit is really starting to sag
I haven't bought one thing; there's zip in my bag
Every guy in this mall is jacked on caffeine
We're edgy, we're angry, we're desperate and mean!
Dear Santa, please help me, I need a stiff drink
How do you do it? What's the name of your shrink?
Take a look in my eyes: They're lifeless and cold
Like a creepy Barbie doll (the last one's already sold)
We just need to buy something, we'll cough up the cash
Then out of this mall we'll (very bad word) dash
Hold on, what's that sound? I see a long line
In front of the Jets store; I pray I'm in time
My kids and my wife would love Dear Old Dad
If on Christmas Day in Jets gear they were officially clad
So I fight my way through, my elbows are high
A licensed Jets jersey I (more bad words) must buy
I think of the players, then call out their names:
"Bring me Slater and Byfuglien, and don't forget Kane!"
The hollow-eyed clerk forks over the gear
I've just paid a king's ransom for an NHL souvenir
But none of this matters; to home I must go
Sure, my gifts aren't original; I just went with the flow
But none of that matters, because I have to go far
Too bad I don't know where I parked the damn car
Still, I speak for all guys, the big and the small
We're just happy it's over; we're fleeing the mall
And you'll hear us exclaim, as we drive out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, this last line don't rhyme!"
doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca
Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition December 23, 2011 A4