Take it.

It’s that time of the year again. If anyone has been detecting anger, irritability, mood swings, anxiety, decreased alertness, withdrawal, fatigue, acne, bloating, and a strong craving for sweet or salty foods in my recent writings, rest assured it is not a figment of your imagination. Ever since Thanksgiving (for my international readers, that’s when Americans ditch their normally stalwart dietary restraint and just, like, pig out for once), my body has been undergoing an uncomfortable, yet totally natural process of male hormonal change. Thankfully, it only occurs once a year, but when it does, I pay dearly for being a dude. Why only once a year? Because it coincides with the worst thing ever: holiday shopping. From late November to early January, men everywhere are forced, against their will, to shop – an activity that we have unsuccessfully resisted for thousands of years. What, you don’t think “Gluck” the caveman was instructed by his cave-wife to bring back a polka-dotted animal pelt so she could feel superior to the other cave-wives who had boring old striped pelts? If I had it my way, I would simply hand Wife a blank envelope of cash every holiday season, give her a peck on the cheek, and continue playing video games. But, alas, that would make me an idiot, so, instead, I begrudgingly wade through the throngs of holiday shoppers like a salmon swimming upstream, until I am eventually snagged by a sales associate touting eau du toillette with grizzly-like tenacity and watch helplessly as my credit card balance is eaten alive. Again, I’m super irritable, so it’s probably best to avoid me until January 2nd or 3rd. Now, DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY CHOCOLATE COVERED PRETZELS?!?