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December 2005 / January 2006 Contest Results |
Surprise Me
With Something
By Rebecca Gernon
Kenner, LA
"Tomorrow's our
anniversary," I reminded my husband.
A simple
statement, but strong enough to make grown men cringe, relinquish the
clicker, lose interest in their beer, and mumble incoherently.
"What do you
want?" He asked.
"I don't care.
Surprise me."
Gift-giving is a
major skirmish in the battle of the sexes. A woman's quest for the
perfect gift makes the Crusaders' search for the Holy Grail a mere
scavenger hunt. Women delight in searching for the perfect gift. Men
would prefer to defuse a ticking bomb with a plastic straw and toothpick
than suffer the stress of shopping.
Men + gifts = No
Big Deal.
Give him golf
balls, a cordless drill, or a Yankees sweatshirt and he's happy.
He may wonder,
Why did she give me a Yankees shirt? I've been a Sox fan my entire life.
But he'll just shove the shirt in a drawer and forget it. I guarantee
he'll never react by stomping to the bedroom, slamming the door and
refusing to speak. And he definitely won't cry!
Women + gifts =
Volatile Situation.
Without
confusing psychobabble, let me explain. Last year when Hubby gave me a
deluxe four-slice toaster for our anniversary, which we sorely needed, I
didn't coo, "Sweetie, how thoughtful. Now we'll enjoy lightly browned
bread instead of cinders for breakfast."
Instead, I
thought, a toaster! That's about as personal as a telemarketing call. I
thought I was his love cherub. I spent the rest of the night sulking in
the bedroom watching Sleepless in Seattle for the umpteenth time.
In the den, my
perplexed spouse mumbled, "I did what you said. I bought a surprise. I
can't win."
To navigate the
gift selection minefield, I offer men these suggestions:
First, don't be
misled by statements like, "My curling iron belched out a 10-foot flame
today and scorched my eyebrows," or "The blender exploded. Shot tomato
sauce all over the kitchen. Looked like Jack the Ripper was here." These
comments cause a man's ‘fix-it genes' to mobilize. I'll get a blender
for her birthday, he thinks. Well, think again! Women don't want tools
for presents. This means no leaf blowers, power saws, rice cookers or
anything with a power cord.
Second,
crotchless panties and pasties are a waste of money unless the woman in
your life wears these on a regular basis. If she generally sleeps in a
turtlenecked suit of armor, gifts from Simon's of Sleazeville will not
get your desired result.
Third, use
caution when buying clothes. Sizing is critical. If it's too small,
she'll ask, "Whatever possessed you to buy this size? A pygmy couldn't
get one leg in these slacks." And God forbid you buy something too
large. "What's this? A size 43XXX, do I look that big?" Warning: Never
answer that question!
Fourth, avoid
gifts from the automotive department. My friend Denise vividly recalls
her first anniversary eighteen years ago. Her beautifully-wrapped gift
held an air filter for her aging car. She prayed, for her husband's
sake, it was a joke. Next he produced a small box. Was it keys to a new
car? A diamond bracelet? Tickets for an exotic vacation? No, it was a
gift certificate to Monkey Joe's Speedy Lube. Women never forget gifts
like that, nor do they let the giver forget them.
And finally,
avoid DUPs. (Disgusting Utilitarian Presents.) If you're not sure what
qualifies as a DUP, reread the first and fourth suggestions. Other DUPs
to avoid are:
Medical
supplies: Including heating pads, aspirin, ice bags, bandages and any
drugs advertised on TV. These items are not funny, even as gag gifts.
Kitchen gadgets:
Especially ice picks, nut crackers, and sharp knives, as they can easily
be used as weapons.
Garden items:
With or without cords, they are classified as tools. Go ahead, buy that new
snow blower, garden tractor or chain if you must have it, for yourself.
Don't try to pass it off as a gift to her. Never give weed sprays or
pesticides; your next drink might taste strange.
A prudent man
tucks away several small gifts to save his butt in an emergency. My
husband learned this trick years ago. So, last week when I said,
"Remember what today is?" followed by an icy stare, like a good Boy
Scout he was prepared. Minutes later I accepted a bottle of my favorite
perfume.
"How thoughtful,
but I bet you forgot your proctology exam is today."
Well, what can I
say? His butt's beyond saving!
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