I don’t ask for much at Christmas, I really don’t. I’m happy to just pick out what I want, instead of Hubs hitting something with the vehicle and dragging it home for me. I can do without the antlers-holding-ballcaps, thanks very much!
Neil Cavuto mentioned something about not wanting to shop at Victoria’s Secret because he felt it made him and other guys feel “perverted,” so he opts out of lingerie shopping for his spouse.
I wouldn’t mind a little something from Victoria’s Secret — it’s just that they make nothing my size or anything that would stretch wide enough.
I once pranced around in a little sexy something for an old boyfriend at Christmastime, and he just laughed and laughed.
I was stunned.
He said, between red-faced gulps of air, “Sorry sweetie ... that’s just not you!”
I took off the little black wisp of satin and balled it up, tossing it into the garbage.
Because I was not a professional pole dancer, as he would have preferred, he thought I was doing a disservice to those tattooed young ladies down at the Dew Drop Inn, who did wear such little dainties while shaking their money makers.
Back to the tee shirts and sweat pants for my loungewear.
Hubs once purchased a bottle of perfume for me while we were in Las Vegas. I didn’t know he was making this purchase, but I’m sure I’ve probably mentioned it in my column before. It was a fairly expensive purchase for ol’ Hubs, who really hates to part with his nickels, dimes, washers and carwash tokens.
It was a big bottle of stuff, too.
Called “Caesar’s Woman.”
Laughable name, hideous scent.
It was obviously a formula from the 4th century when people didn’t feel the need to bathe every day.
This particular perfume made funeral parlors smell good.
I sprayed it once and immediately got a migraine.
It was such a heavy scent, loaded down on the vanilla and patchouli or whatever.
You couldn’t wash it out of your clothes for several washings, and it just seemed to cling to you even after a few days of showering.
It was like the scent in an episode of “Seinfeld” ... BBO. Beyond B.O.
Sunnybuns said it smelled like “a horse in a parade.” Get the picture?
That was the last time Hubs bought me perfume. Now he says, “Pick out what you want and I’ll pay for it.”
So this year, I really can’t think of anything that I want giftwise, but I do want a little something.
I want peace and goodwill and harmony and all of that, but there is something more.
I want people to quit dissin’ on Tiger Woods.
That would make me happy.
Tiger is still one of the greatest golfers, if not the greatest golfer, who ever lived. His morals and his personal life may not be the greatest, but you cannot say that Tiger didn’t improve the lives of many other people.
Were it not for his immense popularity and supreme talent, the game of golf would still be just the same ol’ same ol’.
He has made so much money for the players in the game, and he has been very generous — aside from all the hootchiemamas involved — with his time and money.
People keep harking back to Tiger’s ill-fated decisions like he wasn’t really a great golfer, just a sham. A scam artist.
Tiger Woods has been a hero to a lot of people, because he came from out of nowhere and had the focus, drive and tenacity to become the greatest player the sport of golf has ever known. No one should take that away from him.
He inspired millions of kids to take up golf and aspire to be like him. There is nothing wrong with that. If your kids take only that away from Tiger and leave all of his personal and intimate baggage out of it, they still have someone they can look up to.
I think that Tiger deserves to still be recognized for what he was able to do for a sport that was about as popular as bowling.
No offense to bowlers, cause I like bowling myself, but you gotta admit, the Pro Bowlers Tour is a bit on the dull side, much like golf used to be.
Sure, there are other really excellent golfers around the world, but Tiger is, was, and always will be, in a league of his own.
His awe-inspiring talent should not be relegated to the One Hit Wonders box, because he made history. He may have had the biggest “fall from grace” ever for a sports legend next to O.J. Simpson, but never let it be said that Tiger is not one supremely gifted athlete.
He may not be a super hero, but he is also not super perfect.
None of us are.
I just hope that he is able to get his act together and keep playing the game of golf.
His ability to inspire is still a great gift, and we don’t get many of those these days.
Peace be with you all this Christmas, and say a little prayer for Tiger.
That little gift from you may be just what he is asking for.