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Winnipeg Free Press - PRINT EDITION

Ode to the male shopper

A last-minute buyer's cautionary tale

By: Doug Speirs

Posted: 12/23/2011 1:00 AM | Comments: 0 (including replies)

TRIBUNE MEDIA MCT Enlarge Image

Evander Kane.

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the mall

Not a woman was shopping, not a single one at all

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Dustin Byfuglien. (CP)

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Jim Slater (CP)

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

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