Christmas Options. . .

Agonizing over what to get a woman for Christmas is the bane of all men and countless hours of worrying and frustration usually end up with the man aimlessly wandering the aisles of Service Merchandise on Christmas Eve just mere minutes before the store closes. Ultimately, he ends up at the Swiss Army Knife display, bags under his eyes as his desperation becomes apparent and his psychotic mind-babble tries to justify what will be the first of many lousy gift decisions. Yeah, she'll love that new Swiss Tool cs plus.

I saw this sad spectacle repeated year after year when I worked retail as a teen. I saw men buy for their wives, fishing reels, knives, lawn darts, mismatched clearance lawn furniture, barbells, topiaries, treadmills. Men, don't ever buy a treadmill for your better half, unless she specifically requested it or if you revel in your solace on the couch. I remember the cheerless men, returning a few days after Christmas with their treadmills, unassembled.

So, here's some advice:

If you are going to buy your delicate little flower a mangift, then for heaven's sake, put some damn thought into it. Question one would be, hey, would she really use this or would it just end up in my tacklebox anyway? Question two might be does this item have any usefulness at all for her and not just something that I would love to have for myself? And thirdly, would this gift result is my own death or dismemberment?

Well, considering my own mangift purchase, question three may be ignored. At your own risk of course.

Beatrice is a lucky gal. One, she has me. Two, she's smarter than the average woman. Three, she's smarter than I am. And on top of all that, she loves mangifts. So, for Christmas this year and after a little insider advice from Breda, I bought a Bersa Thunder .380 for Beatrice. And guess what? She fucking digs it.

And she looks ass-kickin' hot in muffs and shooting glasses, totin' her little hogleg.

She has fired guns before and I've taught her as much as I know. In a few short days, I can already see her confidence building as she deftly handles the weapon. When she returns home, she and her brother are going to take the mandatory firearms safety classes required by the great state of Texas to earn a concealed carry permit.

I am impressed by Beatrice and her new found love of guns. I guess it's the proud moxie of a Texas woman and her competitiveness that fills me with splendid glory. Maybe I'm the one that's lucky.

Or, after considering the photo below, maybe I'm an idiot. Remember question three??

Fear the Beatrice!!