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Men’s Gift Guides: The Voyage of The Damned

I sure hope your man is a 1900′s era lumberjack.

If there’s one thing I know, it’s that ‘Men’s Gift Guides’ are AWFUL. Sometimes. Mostly. With very few exceptions.

Yes I’m being a mean horrible lady-grinch. And yes, I read every single one of them too. AAArrrggghhh (*shakes fist at the sky in futility.*)

To the desperate and holiday-weary, a gift guide for men can feel like a welcome sight, a ‘port-in-the-storm’ if you will. But trust me: once you’ve seen a men’s shaving kit (badger brush/shave pot) for the twenty-hundredth time on the eleventy-thousandth internet slideshow—you will start to feel like men spend 90% of their days old-timey shaving, with the remaining 10% of their time spent barbecuing. I know this, because I am not only desperate, but also holiday weary. Gift Guides have been my religion of choice for the past twelve days and I am about to convert to atheism.

That’s me, over there, shopping. Can you see me? Shuffling through the store like a zombie from the Walking Dead, only with big heavy Brookstone bags filled with adzuki bean eye masks and white noise machines for people who don’t want them? Don’t look at me! Avert your eyes! I’m hideous!

The point is: SHUT UP GIFT GUIDES.

The second point is: Men. I love you. You are amazing!  But aren’t you sick of these terrible gift guides? Good God: what do you really want?! I want something better for you! HELP ME. I don’t want to get you any more woodsy toiletries! The ones I bought you from 2008 are still in your bathroom cabinet!

And now I will attempt to break down a typical day in the life, of Gift Guide Man: A Fictional Character Who Actually Likes All Of This Stuff.

Haha. Fictional man is fictional.
6am: Wake up in the morning, for a close straight razor shave (obviously) and a liberal splash of cigar-scented skin tonic. Ah. He smells like a pine tree fell on a camp fire and then you put out the fire with a bottle of Kentucky bourbon.

7am: An all-pork breakfast. A cast iron skillet filled with bacon, and coffee from some machine that only makes one cup at a time.

8am: Video games and general loafing in something plaid—second cup of coffee from that useless machine that is going to break like, by February. I repeat—one cup of coffee at a time. Spend a little time flipping through a manly cookbook thinking about cooking some more meat later that day.

10am: Go to work. You either work somewhere really creative where you get to jam on stuff and toss basketballs all day. Your sweaters look like you are camping but they actually cost a fortune. Or else you work somewhere really corporate where you have to dress like Don Draper and have golf stuff on your desk.

12: Lunch: Don’t eat lunch at all OR, eat lunch from a metal tiffin OR have some of that craft beer that you’re brewing in the woodworking shop that you hand built, adjacent to your impeccably furnished mid-century modern home.

Afternoon: Sports. Golf. Fly fishing. More shaving. Have some jerky. Hit the velodrome. Definitely have another coffee, some chocolate from Madagascar, and then build a fire with a flint while you whittle yourself a new set of barstools. Check your huge diving watch if you want to know what time it is. While you’re DIVING.

3pm: Read something about World War Two or jazz, then reroute all the electricity in your home to play music wirelessly from every room simultaneously. You’re into gadgets, right? GADGETS. PLAY WITH ALL YOUR GADGETS, YOU’RE A FREAK FOR GADGETS (and/or Star Wars collectibles.)

4pm: Does it even bear repeating? Obviously your remaining hours of consciousness will be spent outside with your meat smoker making magic happen.

So basically this: Gift Guide Man is a part-time lumberjack who dabbles in architecture and high finance. One day, he might like to try his hand at deep frying a turkey. He’s playful, as in, he’s sometimes into fun, kicky cufflinks, but he also needs to be able to take the interior temperature of a standing rib roast at a moment’s notice. He’s cool. He wears Perry Como cardigans and hats and/or, so many layers of shirts vests and blazers that no one person could ever get to the bottom of or re-create that outfit in real life. Top it with a hat.

xo

Sam

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Check out other posts by  Sam and Allana:

New Foods Rejected By My Children

Sam’s children are old and they still can’t dress themselves in a timely manner

Fun with pacifiers

In which Sam has shy children

It’s OK, Allana has her own struggles with the potty

 

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