jacko Bares It All
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For Men Only
by jacko
kay,
guys, almost time to breathe a sigh of relief. You know what
I’m talking about: The holiday
season
is nearly at an end, and that means the past year’s
hell of screwing up and buying the wrong birthday,
anniversary or President’s day gifts for your women
is just about history.
Every month of the year has at least one day of torture for us men. Agreed?
It starts in February, with the dreaded
Valentine’s Day, the "romantic"
holiday. This one’s real fun, because no matter what
you give that significant other, you can’t win. If
you give her candy, she complains that she’s dieting
and can’t eat it. If you DON’T give her candy,
she says, "Why didn’t you buy me any chocolate.
Do you think I’m FAT?!" If you get her a dozen
roses, she coyly says, "How nice! But I would have
been happy with just one perfect rose." So the next
time you get her one rose, and she looks at you like
you’re cheaper than Michael Eisner.
Starting to get the picture? A few years back I
decided to get an original present for my wife, so I
ordered her
some nice lingerie
from one of the 5,000 catalogues she gets in the mail every
week. She opens the box, pulls out the thing pinched
between her thumb and forefinger and says,
"Oh...isn’t that pretty." (Great, I figured,
I’m in!)
So I say, "Yeah! Put it on! You’ll look gorgeous in it!"
She stuffs the $300.00 black lace bra -- with push-ups and cut-outs in all the right places -- back in the box and sniffs, "That’s a gift for YOU, and its two friggin’ sizes bigger than I am!" She didn’t speak to me for two weeks.
So much for romance and wishful thinking.
March ain’t such a bad month for most guys, cause there aren’t a bunch of celebratory days to screw up on. Unfortunately for me, though, my wife’s birthday happens sometime in March (I’ve got it written down somewhere), so I don’t get a break. Two years ago, she looked me right in the eye and said, "Honey, I have everything I need. Don’t get me anything for my birthday this year." So, I didn’t. She didn’t speak to me for four days.
This year I gave her a purse full of cash to
go buy whatever she wanted for herself, and
she got p.o.’ed because I didn’t spend the time
to get her something "personal." Two days of
silence for that purse. (So maybe I’m improving?)
In April and May you get Easter and Mother’s Day. Easter’s not so bad, because you can usually get by just getting your old lady some stupid stuffed bunny or some chocolate eggs from See’s (if she’s not dieting again). But Mother’s Day, now that’s another story. She has to get just the right sappy card from you, and you have to make sure your kids get her just the right gift. That’s the father’s responsibility, she says. So how am I supposed to know this? Maliba says everyone knows! What am I supposed to spend my time reading etiquette books? I really did think she’d like the Nintendo Mortal Combat game we got her three years ago... (Well, the kid’s thought it was a hit.) Maliba didn’t speak to me for ten days.
Now the one you really don’t want to mess
up is
Christmas. After the Chia Pet
debacle of ‘95, I realized I had to make a plan this
year. I hired a personal shopper named Bambi. She’s
the makeup artist who’s working on my Christmas special, A
Barbie Twin Christmas. Anyhow, Bambi’s got great
taste, and she dresses real nice. I’d love to see Maliba
in one of those micro-mini-skirts and bare mid-drift
tops, like the ones Bambi wears on even the coldest
winter days. Jingle all the way and oh what fun! Hey, if
Bambi pulls it off like I think she can, this’ll be
the first year that Maliba and I will be talking by Super
Bowl Sunday. I’ll let you know.
__________________________________________________
jacko is busily at work on several holiday specials, including Merry X!-mas from the Girls in Cell Block 8, Hark! Harold Angel Sings, and They Came Upon A Midnight Clear.
jacko's column, jacko Bares It All, is, unfortunately, a regular feature of VegSource On-Line Magazine.