A Geezer’s Notebook, By Jim Foster
For several years I have been offering helpful suggestions of exciting Christmas and Hanukkah gifts thereby saving my faithful readers hours, perhaps even days, of trudging through crowded malls in a futile attempt to find that one special treasure that will thrill a loved one.
For that I must apologize. What I previously failed to take into account was the economic status of those readers. Foolishly I assumed shoppers eagerly awaiting my gift ideas would be looking for inexpensive (yet classy) baubles to please milady, and for the harried housewife, something totally useless for the bum you live with.
Little did I realize my devotees are not the average bozos off the street. They are well-to-do professionals whose bank accounts and tastes rival those of oil company executives, Colombian drug lords and Members of Parliament. A few of the aforementioned group can even afford to shop on the main street of Orillia where parking fees are now on a par with the theatre district in New York City.
I am embarrassed how thoughtless I have been. Last year’s suggestion of a $12 nose-hair trimmer must have seemed ludicrous, almost insulting. You probably planned on blowing at least 20 dollars on the girl or man of your dreams – although that wouldn’t leave much left for your husband or wife.
High on the list of popular presents for milady this year is the Rolex Yellow Gold Ladies Masterpiece watch coming in at a reasonable $78,624.79, plus taxes and gift wrapping. Before you cheapskates start crabbing about a total waste of money, I should explain that this little timepiece is a bargain. Not only is it encrusted with diamonds and actually tells time, if you buy two they will knock off the $.79. Now you don’t get that kind of a deal every day.
Strangely enough, here in Orillia the Rolex Masterpiece watch is either a really hot item and sold out, or our merchants failed to see that the discriminating shopper would be lining up to buy one (or two if he has a mistress and wants to save $1.58). Giant Tigger doesn’t have any. In fact their stock of high-priced jewellery is almost non-existent. The Rolex selection is down to a couple of the cheaper models. Someone in marketing wasn’t paying attention.
I haven’t tried the local jewellery stores as yet. It’s possible they stock the Rolex line, but to be honest I don’t feel comfortable shopping locally for jewellery. Every time I go in I’m treated like some kind of criminal and two or three members of the sales staff follow me around. My friends have suggested it might be a good idea to walk in through the front door instead of shimmying through an upstairs window carrying a burlap bag. Their other suggestion was a fashion thing; apparently wearing a ski mask while shopping is a no-no anywhere south of the Arctic Circle.
A car would be a nice gift, especially one of the newer models that come with a crank, but cars are like paintings and kinky underwear, a bit on the personal side. One might want to at least ask your loved one if he or she really wants a Corvette. Instead of spending a hundred grand plus on something that spends the winter in a heated garage, one might be better to buy your beloved a year’s supply of passes for our local bus transit system, the perfect gift for anyone who enjoys standing outside in a blizzard mumbling, “Where in hell is the flippin’ bus?”
As for the purchase of kinky underwear, some ladies may consider some styles in extremely bad taste, do not damage the relationship by a making a poor choice, take an expert with you – perhaps one of the chaps you drink beer with at the golf club.
Furs are nice. I can’t think of too many women who wouldn’t like to be browsing through the clothing section of Walmart in a chinchilla coat or a little mink jacket. Of course milady should always wear a plastic slipcover over her fur in case some paint-throwing, bomb-carrying animal-rights activist accosts her.
A novel gift, rapidly becoming quite popular among male shoppers this year, is the body makeover. For a few thousand dollars, several pounds of your dear one’s hips and thighs can be lipo-suctioned off with little embarrassment and only a few months of agonizing pain. The resulting tubs of lard (What else can I call it?) can then be injected into areas you, as a devoted husband, feel may need some re-designing.
How a devoted husband or lover should broach the subject is a little beyond my expertise. I suggest announcing your gift over the phone.