I love Christmas.
I really, really love Christmas. I do. I love every part of Christmas: the gift-giving, the smell of the tree, the parties, the food, the staying up late while putting decals on Barbie kitchens, and yes, I even love getting up early as eff to watch the kids unwrap presents.
I love playing Santa Claus. Love that shit. Love it.
What I hate, like all men, is the shopping.
The shopping part becomes slightly more bearable with the advent of the Christmas season because I’m thinking about giving and suprising and yadda-yadda-yadda.
The main problem with men and shopping?
Not enough alcohol. Hands down. They sometimes have that man chair, for men to sit in, at stores and boutiques and what have you. That’s nice.
What a guy really needs, though? He needs that chair.
And he needs a beer to go with it.
This is one aspect of consumerism where a European chain seems to have understood.
IKEA. Love IKEA. For those of you who have ever gone to IKEA, never take your men with you. Unless it’s an IKEA that serves beer. I don’t know how IKEA is in the U.S. or in other English-speaking realms, but my IKEA in Austria serves beer and wine.
If yours does, you can take your man but make sure he gets a beer in the cafeteria BEFORE you go shopping.
That, ladies, is the secret. We men are simple. We need sex. And we need beer. Prissy men need wine. Whatever. But it works.
Otherwise, men simply cannot be held responsible for what happens. I am seriously fucking looking forward to – and it will happen – some “disgruntled shopper” at IKEA going apeshit and killing a bunch of people and then there will be a court precedent set.
It will be called the “IKEA defense.”
Because IKEA without beer is like molar extraction without that big ass stainless steel shot.
Love the big ass stainless steel shot.
This kid kicked my kid in the shins the other day.
I was in charge of both of them, only my kid is 4 and the other kid is 7.
Thing is, my kid kicked first. Which he does at least ten times a day lately, to me. And of course I’m always “don’t do that, it hurts people and you don’t want to hurt people, right?” and of course he keeps fucking doing it.
So when the seven year old kicked him back, I didn’t go all that hard on the seven year old. Especially because when I told him it wasn’t fair because he was 7 and my son was 4, the 7 year old was all “but he kicked me first.”
I couldn’t argue with that. And I didn’t feel all that sorry for my son anyway. And you know what? It has been more than 24 hours since then and he hasn’t kicked anybody.
Come on. It’s not like the 7 year old broke his leg or something. It didn’t even leave a mark.
Wag the Dad
I got a million of ‘em. Here are just three: