Who Rules the Roost?
Christmas has come and gone and I’ve barely thought twice about it. What’s to say? I’m still not resigned to the fact that I have to work this week (and New Year’s Day but not until 4:30pm but it still kind of sucks. Perhaps knowing that I’ll have to function on Jan. 1 will prevent me from throwing up as I did Dec. 31, 2005, which set a miserable tone for all of 2006). I never realized how spoiled I was the past couple of years, getting the week off paid (both in corporate and academic jobs).
In case anyone was wondering what I got for Christmas, my mom gave some cash, a Starbucks card and assorted doodads. My sister got me a subscription to Olive magazine (which came with a free book, but it wasn’t Gastropub Classics, as is listed on their site but something about regional British food) and a handful of English Kit Kats because they’re tastier than ours (but still not as wild as Japanese pumpkin). James is out of town as usual since he’s the universe’s biggest mama’s boy, but he left presents that included a Fossil watch I said I liked in Las Vegas that I’m surprised he remembered, a Jeopardy-related book I’d never heard of and a laptop computer, which surprised the heck out of me because I hadn’t asked for one though I certainly appreciate it.
I’ve never owned a new computer in my life, and yet I’ve always managed just fine. I bought a used Mac maybe ten years ago, which I brought with me to NYC. The four or so PCs I’ve used since then have been obsolete machines “borrowed” from James’s places of employment. It’s funny that I was given an HP Pavilion because last week I read an older bit on Slate about the problems marketing these because they’re lacking a unique identity and “aren’t on anyone’s shopping list.” Apparently, they are in my household. I’d take anything as long as it wasn’t represented by that off-putting Mac guy.
I have it easier in the reciprocity department because I don’t have to come up with presents until the week after Christmas (and I don’t spend as much). I really hate shopping so I thought I was being wise ordering things online. I think the marked down (hmm….these were $88 when I bought them on Monday—I guess I got a bargain) Ted Baker pants will arrive tomorrow, I bought some artisanal sage honey at Stinky Bklyn (I don’t know why they spell it like that) in the neighborhood (I know, I get a computer and I give a jar of honey, but I’m being practical. Before he went out of town, James mentioned being out of honey. I don’t even care much for the stuff so I’m being self-less. Then I somehow ended up spending $37 on Serrano ham and two cheeses, which I’ve already eaten most of) then I ordered this shaving cream online because it sounded enticing and I was specifically asked for shaving cream.
It showed up yesterday and only after seeing the product face to face did I realize that it’s for women. Sure, the font, style and packaging seem a little feminine but it’s the ‘00s and men can embrace their softer side. Nowhere in the ad copy does it say that’s for women. The picture online blurs right where the word women appears in the phrase, “shaving cream for women.” I read initially read about this brand on New York’s website and they imply that it was a men’s product that “is a cult favorite with women.” What the fuck? No one says it’s FOR women until you see the jar in person.
It’s not like James isn’t used to be given things geared towards the other gender (I’m convinced his mother thinks he’s either a middle-aged women or gay with bad taste. She’s always buying him crap from Marshall’s like floral soaps, cookie jars made to look like French cafes, rugs adorned with country-style roosters [seriously, we have one of these sitting in front of our fridge this very second. My cat Sukey loves to "taco" area rugs. Taco-ing involves taking a crap on a mini carpet and then folding over the side so it looks like a tortilla shell filled with ground beef. I've been trying to get her to taco this rooster rug but she only seems to shit on items I cherish] pot holders shaped like tea pots, aprons and towels in patterns and colors no man would ever pick for himself. I’m scared to death to see what straight-to-the-trash-if-it-were-up-to-me shit he shows up with from his mom later this week) but I don’t want to push him over the edge. I guess I just bought myself a present. It’s nice stuff and they included lots of samples, but still. Now I have to physically purchase a new emergency gift on short notice.
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