Shopping and Shins


Why Don't We Get Drunk and Shop?



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.


Not My Son's Shins



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.


Sincerely Yours

Wag the Dad

I got a million of ‘em.  Here are just three:

Playing Doctor

All Kinds of Awesome.  From Me To You.

It’s OK To Pray in Bed


  1. I think I might get nightmares about getting drunk and lost in Ikea. Last time I went there my imagination went wild and I started thinking about being stuck in Ikea during a zombie apocalypse.

    Basically? That would fucking suck.

  2. OHMAHGAWD. I didn’t think ANYTHING would make IKEA better than shopping there while under the influence of 7 pounds of Swedish Meatballs… but BEER? Can I have a beer, too?
    Shit, this is another thing that makes me a man, isn’t it?

    • Oh man, you had to go and mention the meatballs, didn’t you? Mmmmm, IKEA meatballs. My mom used to stop at IKEA every couple months and ask me if I needed anything from there. Obviously, this is a ridiculous statement, because you don’t know you need anything from IKEA until you walk in, and then you realize you NEED EVERYTHING! But . . . I would always tell her to pick me up a couple bags of meatballs and some of the packets of sauce. So delicious. Great, now I’m craving those suckers and my mom is in Florida until May. Thanks, Hoody. Thanks a fucking lot! :p

  3. Husband and I just went to the Motherland (IKEA) on Tuesday. They did not serve beer. Sadness.

    Bright side: Serving beer at IKEA would take our typical $200 worth of Glimmas and Tindras and Malms at the check out and jack it up to about $400.

    Maybe dry-IKEA is a good thing.

  4. IKEA makes me want to stab people with blunt objects. Aside from that, some of the best lessons my daughter has learned has come from her baby brother. As in don’t put your face in his face or he’ll punch you (she got punched, by a 17 month old), or hey he’s going to pull your hair if you take that toy out of his hands (she got her hair pulled), etc. She’s learned to give him a really wide berth…. natural consequences… work every time!

  5. Yeah, I’m a big fan of natural consequences. My kids usually come to me and say, “So-and-so did this,” and my normal response is “Stay away from So-and-so.” It works almost every time. Also, I figure I’m teaching them life skills since the usual adult response to evil fuckers is to avoid them.

    I like shopping ok, but shopping drunk is better. Especially in Las Vegas, which features more alcohol and shopping venues in the same square footage than anyplace else. I don’t think I want to be drunk while shopping in Ikea because I already have bad taste (hello gold lame bikini) and I’d rather not have a household full of the furniture equivalent of gold lame bikinis.

  6. If i ever win the lottery I’m buying an IKEA so i can play laser tag and paintball and sardines in it. Actually I bet I could get away with the sardines in a normal IKEA.

  7. You love IKEA? Really…. Well, the last time I went there I bought a cupboard with a shiny surface, so I can see my own butt in it, but when I took it out of the box I found it it had been wrapped in this sticky plastic, sticky and blue, and it took me a freaking 45 minutes to unwrap it. Idiots! I mean, I was screaming and shouting, thinking, ‘Sould I go back and ask the general manager to unwrap it for me?’ but I was too lazy to drive all the way back there, so I just kept on cursing like a pro. IKEA can kiss my butt. And as for shopping, well, I was lucky to have to wait for my new Maestro card. No card means no shopping. I love that. So all you need to do is get your card skimmed. Problem solved. Just saying, Dad.

  8. that’s my sisters thought behind parenting… when her son started biting she bit him back… he cried.. and she told him, “hurts, doesn’t it?”… and he never bit again.

  9. That kicking thing is foreign to me. I’ve got girls. Their personal space is enormous. I can’t imagine them kicking someone. Me or anyone else. Now, getting on up in my face and being uppity–they’ll do that shit all day. Girls kick with words. At least in my experience.

    Happy holidays, man!

  10. I like shopping IF I have money to BUY. Shopping to “just look” is sheer fucking torture. And I think the kicking thing was handled well, but then again I use the same parenting techniques that I use for dog or horse handling, so what in the hell do I know?

  11. I parent in the same way. I bit my kids back when they bit me and would have had the same reaction if my kid got kicked.

    You can tell a kid that fire is hot a million times, but until they actually burn themselves, they won’t really get it.

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