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| "AMERICA'S FUNNIEST HUMOR"TM
SHOWCASE
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December 2006 / January 2007 Contest Results |
Good
Intentions
By Greg Barry,
Minnesota
Last Christmas my wife received a number of well-intentioned presents
from me. Her reactions to her gifts ranged from gently purring, “Oh,
Honey, you really shouldn’t have” to curtly stating, “you REALLY
shouldn’t have!”
Shopping malls have always confused me. One time I drove into a mall
parking lot where I was required to memorize a parking locator sequence
code that guaranteed that no one could possibly lose track of their
car’s location. As I walked into the mall after repeating my code to
myself 30 or 40 times, “Section 643 West, Michigan, Row T, stall 128” I
realized I’d forgotten why I came to the mall in the first place. So I
promptly turned around and headed back to my car to go home. After
wandering hopelessly for about an hour, a sympathetic security officer
kindly picked me up and dropped me off at my car. (It was in Row G.)
But for this trip to the mall I was able to persuade a friend to pick me
up and drive me there and back. Once safely in the mall, I slowly walked
by a not-so-secret women’s clothing establishment well known for selling
high fashioned lingerie and night-wear. After glancing at a few of their
selections, I decided Laura would definitely prefer something more
sensible, more practical, something that offered more substance to be
able to cope with our long, cold Minnesota winters.
My next stop was at P.J.’s ‘R Us. The place was packed with persistent
pajama purchasers. All of the store clerks were dressed in pajamas and
obviously loving it. I guess it was an extreme version of corporate
casual. Even the mannequins looked comfortable.
As I began sorting through the dozens of racks of pajamas, I happened to
be standing nearby a bank of dressing rooms. The store clerks were
busily re-racking items that had been tried-on and rejected. It occurred
to me that there was something troubling about other people trying on my
pajamas before me. To me, pajamas fall into the same category as
underwear. I’m not interested in my under-garments being pre-worn by
anyone else. I want my ‘jams in pristine condition when I try them on
for the first time. And I knew Laura would feel the same way.
Feeling discouraged, I treated myself to a Mrs. Fields cookie while
considering my remaining options. As I glanced up from my wire-mesh mall
bench, I spotted it. It was the store I had been searching for. I won’t
share the name, but it’s synonymous with the lowest denomination of
American currency available.
Fast-forward to Christmas day. The level of anticipation in the room was
palpable as Laura opened her carefully wrapped package. She cut open the
hermetically sealed plastic bag direct from the pajama factory. She
realized I had generously splurged by upgrading to the triple-thick
flannel variety. She rushed to her dressing area to try them on. When
she returned, she had a partially satisfied look on her face. But that
look didn’t last for long. It turns out that triple-thick flannels are
about a half-inch thick and they don’t exactly breathe very well. The fact
that they were form fitting also didn’t help the heat index factor.
As she inspected the “fit” in her full-length mirror, she noticed some
extra buttons on the sides. “What are these extra buttons for?” she
asked. Moments later, beads of perspiration began to collect on her
brow. Her frantic attempt to remove her overly snug, less than
fashionable pajamas had less to do with amorous feelings toward me and
more to do with a desperate attempt to lower her quickly escalating core
body temperature. I was hoping she’d think they were “hot,” but in a
different sort of way.
During my confession, I admitted where I had purchased the garment, that
I had only paid $14.95 for them, and that I had shamelessly chosen them
out of the “Senior Saver” clearance bin. I sheepishly informed her that
the extra buttons on the sides (that I was hoping she wouldn’t notice)
were for people to be able to fasten an adult diaper for a little extra
protection during the night.
I completely understood when she decided to give her pajamas away to the
local senior citizen home. It’s comforting to know that some
octogenarian is happily romping around the senior center wearing Laura’s
cast off “toasty ‘jams” and she may even appreciate the extra buttons.
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