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March 27, 2010



Fun in the Sun with Grumpy

The Science of Power Shopping

As a male, I claim no real knowledge when it comes to the mind of a woman, especially when in reference to the hunter/gatherer impulse involved in power shopping. However, there is one strategy I frequently observe, which might be called “diversional buying”.

What I mean by this is the propensity of the SHOPPERS to bring something back for the boy’s. Indeed, when our girls shop, they most often scurry up to Willy Boy and me, all excited and bubbly, ready to show their soul mates what they have purchased for US.  

In Florida, after the great Monday run on the Beall’s Outlets, I scored two great T-shirts and a cool bathing suit. One of the shirts declared BUCKET LIST and showed a bucket of beer in ice, while the other was a really wild Bob Marley graphic. (Weed and Beer -Priceless!) Willy Boy did  just as well, in fact, I wish I had one of the shirts he got because it was from the Caribbean Soul line.

After all of the hoop-la involved in the presentation, the girls believe we will forget the scores of packages that were secreted through another door. It’s like clapping your hands to make a dog forget. But it doesn’t matter, because after massive amounts of beer, the boys don’t give a rat’s ass anyway.

The Monday raid on Beall’s is the kick off for a week of shopping for our girls (mother’s, daughters, aunts and grandmothers). It’s Senior Discount day and the mother-in-law has a punched card that provides an even bigger price cut. Usually they’re looking at about a 45% cut in price. The herd is made up of 12 women (driving two vehicles) with pupils dilated as wide as strung out crack addicts. They invade about five Beall’s Outlets in the Winterhaven area in an early morning pre-emptive strike.

The SHOPPERS pool their purchases to get the big discount. The first checkout had a price tag of $1530, for which they paid $841, while the second stop rang up $721 for a $396 bill.

Inevitably the girls will pull these lines on the boys.

“We got some great deals!” “This is a quarter of what we pay in Canada!”

“We’d never pay full price for these things!” “Oh, my God, we did so well!”

To which Willy Boy and I are thinking: “That’s a lot of bovine excrement!”

If we had big enough onions we’d be throwing out the line, “But do you need any of this stuff.” You see we are privy to the inventory of their closets and drawers at home. When we hold a yard sale it’s like we have enough female clothing to fill several Target Stores and a Super Wal-Mart.

Sometime we’d like to say, “What would you girls do if we spent that much on beer?” However, we are rather fond of our testicles and would rather have them hanging in place than nailed to the wall.

We both know that all of this stuff has to be packed and lugged home in the cramped Space Shuttle. On the morning of departure, Willy Boy might just blow out an artery or three.

Oh, well, a happy wife makes for a happy life. (husband.) And, you can take that to the bank when you’re living with you in-laws in a senior’s Park in Florida.

Shopping Widowers

OK, you get that it is the prime purpose of this visit to go SHOPPING, that is, for the girls. Oh, yes, tanning is part of the protocol, but there are 24 hours in a day, my friends.

Because of their schedule, Willy Boy and I feel like we’re shopping widowers. We spend a whole lot of time together, walking, sunning at the pool, and drinking massive amounts of beer. ( “Massive amounts of beer” is a definite reoccurring theme for us.)

The problem is that we both fear that the residents of the park suspect that we’re a gay couple. We’re always seen together.

So this year we instituted the following rules.

We don’t slather suntan lotion over one another at the pool!

We never enter the showers or washroom at the pool at the same time.

We space our lounge chairs at least 10 feet apart –with backs facing.

We try not to giggle like little girls when we think something is funny.

We avoid bright colors and flowers on our Hawaiian shirts.  

The novels we read must be high action, adventure, blow-it-up conspiracy thrillers, preferably with a lot of blood and guts on the cover.

We shave every other day to get that swarthy tough guy look.

We fart, belch, swear and cuss like a couple of sailors.

We drink massive amounts of beer.

The creepy thing is that when we’re alone, we get a lot of flirtations from 80 year old women. I guess when your 50 or 60 in a seniors park, you are looked upon as a potential “boy toy”. After all, this is the Viagra generation and Willy Boy looks a little like Sean Connery!!

I know Kimmer would just say, “EEEEEEWWWWWWW!” to that notion.

As an aside, you might remember the 80+ year old gal we know who put a plastic spider in her pubes just before she went for a gynecological examination. After a rather crude comment by my wife, she once said, “Once Jimbo has a taste of me he’ll never come back!”


In the long run, Willy Boy and I don’t mind the isolation. After all, our prime motivation is to . . . you guessed it . . . . drink massive amounts of beer.

Definition of Heaven: The Walgreens Liquor Store: Lake Wales

Imagine our shock when we walked up to the counter with an 18 pack of Busch (for visitors), a magnum of wine and a bag of ice and the clerk said, “That’ll be sixteen dollars.”

Say what?

The same amount of booze would cost us at least $50 or more back in the Great White North. My God, that’s chump change when Willy Boy and I split this cost for eight bucks a piece.

Both of us agree that, if we lived full time in Florida, we’d quickly become alcoholics.

American is certainly a civilized country when it comes to the price and availability of hooch. Less than a buck a beer is amazing because buck a beer lager in Canada has a taste pretty similar to horse piss. And here in the US, if it tastes bad, you can chase that with a swallow of that cheap wine you just bought.


The cost of booze in Canada has a lot to do with the heavy taxes that are applied. I guess that’s how we pay for our Universal Free Health Care, one freaking drink at a time, which is a government conspiracy, because you don’t notice the nickel and diming that much, especially when you are inebriated.