Dave Barry, a humor columnist whose writing style emulates mine - all this while being older than I am, published for more years than I have, and never having read anything I've written, so that's quite an impressive feat for him - wrote a column recently about the perils of buying gifts for women. The gist of his analysis was that men are idiots when it comes to buying gifts for women. Men want to buy practical gifts for their women, who secretly crave impractical gifts that involve odors and parts that break easily. One of his examples was some ultra-powerful, never-fail, never-die torch vs. a scented candle that sucked in more light than it gave off. One guess which gift he says women prefer.

I say bring on the bat signal. I own some candles but never light them, since the power hasn't gone off here yet, and my flashlight batteries are still good. In fact, next time I'm at Lowe's or Home Depot, I'll get some more (flashlights, that is). My mother is fond of potpourri, but to me it's just a bunch of dead smelly leaves that takes up valulable workspace. Any man after my heart should take heed and get me power tools. I still haven't saved up enough for a drill press or jointer, and if you don't know what a jointer is, you're not the guy for me. If a ring has a diamond on it, it probably costs as much or more than the above, so spend your two months' salary at a home improvement center instead of Tiffany's.

Now don't worry *too* much about me, though. I do have 2 "X" chromosomes as far as I can tell, so occasionally they guide my behavior and preferences. For instance, I really would rather not get tire-changing tools on my birthday or Christmas. Part of this is that car maintenance is not something I'm well suited for, no matter how many times I've read my owner's manual. I can pour liquids into their various containers as needed, though (ex. windshield wiper fluid). Other than that, I'll do considerably less damage to my car if I just wait for the CVS Samaritan van to find me. The type of impractical gifts I'd rather receive would be toys. And by that I mean toys from Toys R Us or other places normally frequented by a) parents, b) children or c) both. There's a Toys R Us 3 minutes' driving time from me. I practically live there. I should be surprised that the employees don't know me by name or at least by sight by now, but... well, these are people who work at Toys R Us. I'll be anonymous forever.