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Show . WDnSsitlle y . t tv, by David Fleisher An easy way to avoid a face slap for Christmas "AH colors," I answered, "just mix it up." "Are these for your friends?" she asked. "Yes," I said, "creative, don't you think?" "I think you're a sick person," she responded. I'm really not better off today than I was two years ago, when that conversation took place. I've concluded that when it comes to holiday shopping, I must have been born with inadequate genes and chromosomes. When I was in high school, I bought my girlfriend a pair of panty hose, and instead of thanking me, she slapped my face. What's the matter with panty hose? It's practical. Later in life, a girlfriend bought me a pair of socks and I was flattered. Should I have taken her to an alley and beaten her up? So, what if the socks were too big. It was the thought that counted. I've become more sophisticated in my shopping since those days. Now, I buy books ... and more books. You can't ever g(Kwrong with a book, unless your friend is illiterate or has an IQ below 20. And since most of my friends have IQ's exceeding 20, I never have a problem. This past weekend, I went to a Christmas party given for Park Record employees, and we exchanged gifts. I was given a whistle (Ten O'Clock Whistle, get it?), two watches (to make sure the whistle goes off on time) and several cigars. That was a clever gift, although the cigars are a tad strong for my liking. The gift I brought was a book about horses. Admittedly, it wasn't as clever as the gift I received, but at least I didn't get slapped across the face. Nevertheless, I'm still a little concerned about the book because not long after it was opened, one person at the party jumped in a hot tub, naked and another person jumped in with all her clothes on. Maybe next year I'll buy a book about birds. As I walk up Main Street I hear the Ten O'Clock Whistle. With the holiday season upon us, I've been trying to come up with a few gift ideas, but it's hard because you never know what's appropriate for people. I never know what to get people, and usually I end up roaming aimlessly around stores, looking for that one gift that says it all. And after a while I get dizzy, go home and take a nap, then hit the stores again. It's like an endless circle. People who say that Christmas shopping can be creative are masochists. They probably beat their spouses at night to release tension. These are the people who know exactly what gifts to buy for their friends. All year long, they carry little note pads around with them, jotting down gift ideas, and whispering to themselves, "Oh ! I know what I'm going to get him ! " When the day after Thanksgiving arrives, they pole vault in unison from one store to the next, buying those perfect gifts. Most of us do our shopping late, like the day before Christmas (I once had the unique distinction of shopping the day after Christmas, which turned out to be somewhat embarrassing). The perfect gift buyers never procrastinate their holiday shopping: it's generally all done by August. They spend from August to August of every year jotting down notes and worrying about shopping. I don't do that. I go shopping only after I have worked myself up into a frenzy thinking about what to say when a sales clerk approaches me and asks, "May I help you?" When that question was posed to me a couple of years ago, the following exchange took place: "Help me? No, thanks, I think I'll just look around." "You don't look like you know what you want," she said. "May be I'll take a scarf." "This is a toy store. You can't get that here." "How about a rubber duck?" I asked. "We have plenty of rubber ducks. What color do you want?" |
