Creative Endeavors, The Home of BoxcarOkie.com

Now that title should attract every internet troll in the Universe, should be amusing to see what transpires.  Want a big hit count?

Put the word S-E-X somewhere in the title or “imply that the word S-E-X” is somewhere in there, then sit back and watch ‘em come.

There are two things in this world that drive me bonkers.

(#1) Christmas Music. It drives me up the wall, I used to say it drives me crazy, but Cup Cake was always rolling her eyes and muttering “short trip” so I stopped doing that.

Department store Christmas Musak is my Achilles Heel and I just about go nuts every time I am exposed to it.  It is not the message or the jingle lah-lah, it is how it “just sticks in my head all day long like some kind of mutant cerebral disease” and will not let me go!

(#2) The second thing I can’t abide by is “shopping.” I just about hate any kind of shopping, for just about anything.  You ever see someone with a puppy on a leash and they are literally “dragging the dog, because the pup will not be tamed by the leash.”  That is me shopping, drag me kicking and screaming all the way into the deep recesses of the store, but I will not willfully submit.

It might be a throw back to when I was a little dinker and my mother I don’t know.  You know how popular it is in America, “to blame it all on your mother” these days.  That could be it.  I do know this, my dad was not all that big on babysitting and he didn’t do a lot of it.  So consequently, mom would take my sister and myself “shopping” and that including women’s apparel and undergarments.

Now we all know, this is not a familiar area for a little boy.  That might have started my aversion to it right there, being dragged around all day long like some little blue eyed blond haired trophy into every store in America by my mother.

Most men do not like to shop, this is why the “Men’s Department” is on the first floor of the building, about two inches off the floor, just inside the door.  A man for instance, will stand outside a store and say to himself, “I am cold.”  He then walks into a store, finds a suitable jacket or coat, purchases it, “I am no longer cold.”  Shopping is now officially over.  Let us go home.  That is shopping for a man.

Now as I grew older in life, I figured my aversion for shopping would eventually wane, I mean hell, I can stand in Fredrick’s Of Hollywood or Victoria’s Secret for hours at a time now, and it doesn’t bother me a bit.

Now the women, I can feel their eyes boring into the back of my skull, and they quickly look away when I do catch their glance, but they sense that I am not supposed to be there.

Sort of like when you are at the Proctologist’s Office, no one is smiling and everyone is looking down at the floor.  Same thing with a man in a store filled with women’s apparel and women.   This is often U-n-c-o-m-f-o-r-t-a-b-l-e.com

I realize, it is just like all those little pig-tailed girls did to me in the third grade when Mom drug me into the same kind of mess, “Hey?  Whadya YOU doin in here!” and I just shrug my shoulders and wish I was deer hunting in Boseman, Montana or something.

And they are right, I am not, supposed to be there.

I know it, and I didn’t want to come in to this particular store in the first place …. SHE … made me do it.  So I do the natural thing, I get on the defense.  I do as Frazier Crane sez or Dr. Phil is fond of suggesting … I find my happy place.

I listen intently to the musak coming out of the overhead speakers, Christmas Music and I secretly make up my own lyrics to the songs and all is at peace in my world.

Shop till you drop girls … I will be over here in the corner softly humming.

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