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December 29, 2009


Here’s the quick list, but not quite the Reader’s Digest version of the rest of the Christmas Story in Jimbo’s World. Oh, ya, there’s more to come.

Scorin’ Scotch More than One Wee Dram at a Time

I’ve often mentioned my love for a wee dram of Scotch now and then, even though probably more often than required and usually more than a dram.

I have to hand it to my wife and sister-in-law for keeping me in high spirits on Christmas Day. First of all, the good wife stuffed a portion of the fat man’s stocking with a bottle of Johnny Walker Black. Now that’s how lucky I am. My wife never complains about my drinking habits and actually surprises me with alcohol treats when she returns from grocery shopping. (Six Packs, Wine, Scotch) I rarely have to ask.

Now this may be a ploy to distract me from the “other” plastic and/or gift bags she is carrying after she’s been out “running errands”, as she calls it. You know, the ones with designer names embossed on the front.

But, there is no complaint here, my friends.

And my sister-in-law, well she’s a good listener. We were over at their house before Christmas and, as per usual, I was offered up a Scotch and water. She asked me if I preferred Chivas or Glenfiddich, to which I replied, “I’ll take three fingers of the latter.”

We got into a conversation about Scotch and I mentioned that I like when we visit the city because the Liquor stores there are huge and well stocked. You might recall my recent shopping excursion (with benefits) to London? I commented to her that I bought a Mickey of JW Black (12 oz) in one of those stores, because, after all, who can afford a full bottle of Black when you’re dispersing your kids inheritance one-buck-at-a-time during the Christmas Season.

Christmas Day I open my package from the brother and sister-in-law and “Bing-Bodda-Boo-Bodda-Bing”, much to my wondering eyes, a 40 ounce bottle of Johnny Walker appeared.  What a good listener my sister-in-law is. In one day I’ve scored 60 ounces of 12 year old Scotch.

As we walked the dog last night my wife remarked, “Now you’ve got some good Scotch that will last you for quite a while.”

I’m thinking, “What is her definition of ‘a while’?”, because I’m already deep into the first bottle. And, I also decide not to add, “You got a lot of nice clothes for Christmas. I guess you won’t be shopping for a while.”

I simply mumble my usual, “Mmmmmmm!”, because some thoughts, my friends, are better left unspoken.  

But there is hope.

We spend New Years with my buddy and his wife and we exchange Christmas gifts, as well. I can count on him for a bottle of Scotch, because as a UPS driver who scores Christmas perks from customers, he usually re-gifts me a bottle of the good stuff.

“Over the lips, and past the gums, look out stomach, here it comes!”

Vitamin B – Niacin and the Hot Flash at Wal-Mart Incident  

After my latest medical check-up the Doc had this to say about my blood work.

“Jimbo, you’re bad cholesterol is good, but your good cholesterol is bad.”

“Hold on there, Doc,” I respond. “There must be something I can do about that? I need to get better good cholesterol to counteract my good bad cholesterol, right?”

The good Doctor appears a little cross-eyed and semi-perplexed with that remark.

“Well, there are two ways we can approach this,” he begins. “You can exercise for thirty minutes a day, but it has to be intense exercise –you know, like a heavy make-yourself-sweat workout. Or, I can put you on a mega dose of Vitamin B.” Dr. Paul’s smirky smile is not unlike the one I described when he was about to check my prostate last April. (See Previous Blogs)

Much in the manner that I answered my sister-in-law, I tell him, “I’ll take the latter!” remembering, of course, to leave out the three finger reference, and reminding myself that intense exercise is verboten.

Getting a serious look on his face, Dr. Paul leans in to tell me, “There may be some side effects with the Vitamin B/Niacin therapy.”

He proceeds to tell me about a facial flush and a burning sensation upon the skin. I’m thinking, isn’t that one of the side effects of Viagra? I’m a bit disappointed when he doesn’t tell me to expect four hour erections.


He reassures me that if I stick to it, these initial effects will wane and, the pharmacist, in her wisdom, directs me to take the supplement at night, so the side effects will occur while I sleep.

I can do that. Sleeping is one of my most accomplished skills.

Two days after starting the Niacin plan I notice in the middle of the night, that I feel hot and flushed as well as itchy. I throw off the covers after my wife asks if I’m having a hot flash. She is a true believer in the man-o-pause thing. I tell her that the side effects have finally arrived. But, she’s already sleeping and answers me with a resounding snore.

So, on Boxing Day, I’m out and about with my son and daughter, taking them to Wal-Mart, looking for all the deals. That’s when the biggest hot flash of all hits. I’m sure my face is beet red. I feel so hot that my arms begin to itch under my big fat Canadian winter coat. I throw off that coat just as my skin begins to get a creepy crawling sensation, you know, as if there are African worms boring through my dermis. Some people in these parts call it a “picky feeling”.

So I scratch the itches, wiggle with the tingles and get to the point where I am reminded of the Incident in Row B (See Previous Blogs), when my wiener got all tangled up in an underwear thread.

I feel as if the only solution is to strip off my clothes and get naked. I need some soothing cool air upon my lily white, now burning, skin. However, I decide to apply better judgment, because I’m thinking about the obvious headline, “Naked Old Man Streaks Wal-Mart Boxing Day Blowout Sale.”

No, can’t go there, because this is Small-Towns-Ville and there are people who actually know who I am.

So, rather than continuing to shop in my Birthday Suit, I retire to my vehicle where I can scratch and itch to my hearts content, as well as loosen my clothing to expose a little skin.

I’m sure a few patrons s, upon seeing me hunched over in my car, were thinking, “Is that guy doing what we think he’s doing? My God, look how red his face is and he’s wiggling and squirming like he’s in the throws of passion!” or, more simply, “Kids, don’t stare at the bad man with the red face.”

Film at eleven, anyone?

My Brother-in-Law’s Christmas Inside Jokes and Jolly Jabs

My wife and mother-in-law got into a bit of a disagreement about Christmas giving and the kids. My mother-in-law worries about the kids getting designer wear, thinking that it will change them into spendthrifts when they can ill afford that. They’ll all be in debt as adults; they’ll suffer through broken marriages and ultimately divorce, only to experience single parenthood and abject poverty. This is the kind of logic jumps seniors make when it comes to Christmas presents.

Her final statement cut like a knife, when she said, “And, all that stuff is probably all made in China by poor people with low wages. We should be buying Canadian products.”

This statement was made by a person who lives in Florida six months of the year. Spending money in the U.S. does nothing to support Canadian employment or industry, does it?

That got my wife to the boiling point because the same person bought a big screen TV (Likely made in China) on Black Friday in Lake Wales FLORIDA and hauled it home to Canada! The migrant Mexicans working at the Wal-Mart there are surely indebted to her.

Ever the diplomat, my wife explained to her that these were “one-off” special treats that each kid received - not an entire wardrobe.

So, on Christmas day, my brother-in-law, who had heard about this exchange, took every opportunity to milk our little inside joke.

Over the course of our nine hours together, his little digs went something like this.

 “Oh, I bet that was made in China?”

“The Chinese do make some good products, you know.”

“China’s economy is booming I’d have to say!”

“I’m glad the Chinese are lending us all that money so we can have an economic recovery plan.”

“Look, the instructions on this box are even written in Chinese.”

“Made in Hong Kong! Isn’t Hong Kong a part of mainland China, now?”

You get the picture. I few times I couldn’t help but let out a hand-over-mouth guffaw, a muffled cough or chortle.

Now, don’t get me wrong. My mother-in-law is a good hearted generous woman, as is my father-in-law. They are the best in-laws a person could have and, we love them dearly.

But they are hitting the 70 threshold, and with that, all bets are off when it comes to logic and/or common sense, especially when it comes to financial matters, family and prognostications. We are all seeing that my mother-in-law is turning into her own mother, the late great Granny Grunt, both in attitude and deed. The do as I say, not as I do philosophy, has emerged, big-time. Because, you know, “A penny saved is a penny earned!”

A few years back she actually told us, “Just shoot me if I ever become like my mother!”  

But, even that wouldn’t work for her now, would it, because most of the guns at Wal-Mart are made in China.