It’s the time of year I dread – my wife’s birthday. It’s three weeks away and the shopping starts soon for the gift she won’t like, with a guaranteed 99.7% return rate. Last year all she talked about was an ipod. So I get her an ipod…yep, wrong friggin’ ipod. She wanted the little one and until I become the Amazing Kreskin things will not change.

The worst part is that she doesn’t like gift certificates because it limits her to one store and – cash is so impersonal. Can you imagine after 20 years, a birthday gift still needs to be tied to emotion? Can you imagine bitching that somebody plopped three Franklins in front of you and said, “Get what you want.” And when I ask her what she wants, the answer is, “Can’t you be creative and surprise me?” Yeah, I’ll get Chris Angel to make the Hope Diamond magically appear from my ass – that should be a nice surprise, huh?

Guys, I’m not exaggerating – she is a horror to shop for – except when it comes to the my son. He could give her anything and she’ll cherish it. When Tommy was seven he gave her a rock that was laying in bat shit, along with a goofy homemade card. Six year’s later the rock is still on her dresser. I’ll give her an $800 bracelet and, “It’s too big, it’s too dressy, I like more jewels, less gold, I don’t like the clamp.” You don’t like the f@#king clamp?! We’ll get a new clamp. I’ll buy an imported clamp. We’ll have it flown in from Cyprus.

“No, it’s just not right.”

It’s never right and this is getting really old.

Recently my son always wants to get her a fancy candle – and Yankee Candle is the place to go when you need a $30 hunk of paraffin in a mason jar that smells like braised Cortland apple crum tart. This place is insane and NOT the Man’s Man store by any stretch of the imagination. First off, the cheapest candle you can get is the size of a shot glass at around eight bucks. And the array of scents is getting completely out of hand. The wife just lit one the other day called Snickedoodle and the whole goddamned house smelled like charred chocolate, caramel, and nuts. I just checked their website and the new fall scents are Blueberry Scone, Egg Nog, and Evening Air. What’s funny is that it’s definitely a chick’s interpretation of “evening” air, because MY evening air candle would smell like ribeye, Romeo Y Julieta, and sulphuric egg farts.

Now that my daughter is 17, she realizes that little plaques featuring a cutesy alien that says “Mommy, You’re Out of This World” just ain’t gonna cut it anymore. Now SHE runs into the same problem as daddy – how do you buy for “the beast?” This is a conundrum of major proportions and the beast needs to be appeased – but how? The answer is – that after 20 years, I have no answer. The woman is an enigma of catastrophic proportions. I even called Jepoardy brainiac and all-time super champion Ken Jennings for help and all he said was, “What is, You’re up Shit’s Creek, Polack?”

A few days after the birthday I’ll hear stuff like, “Bob just took Christine to the Islands on her birthday,” or Joe bought Cindy a huge diamond.” Well Bob works for his daddy and makes a fortune and Joe sold his deceased mom’s house and put eight-hundred thousand in his pockets. She always brings up her rich friends and never the poor shcmucks. I always comeback with, “I hear Ray took Cindy to Dennys for the Big Champ Breakfast and Bonnie caught Charlie bangin’ his girlfriend right in their bedroom.” Oh, it doesn’t help matters, but it’s kinda fun all the same.

God dam, it’s coming – I can’t slowdown time, either. Man, I wish she dug cigars. Give me a few smokes on my special day and I’m as happy as a pig dipped in Shinola. Give my wife three or four hundred dollars and I’m so un-loving, uncaring, and impersonal. I’m the scum of the earth I tell you, a pox upon society, a wretched turd with no redeeming value, a total and complete…ah, you get it.

I can’t be the only guy out there with this problem. Anybody else? Any suggestions other than Dr. Phil, divorce, or a horse head in the bed? I’m all ears, people.

Thanks for listening. It was very cathartic and I appreciate that,

Tommy Z.

JR Cigars Blog With the Zman