A few days
ago a dear friend of mine had a celebration on behalf of another candle being
added to the birthday cake she blows out every year. In between Olive Garden dinners, bags of chocolate, and a
cheesy Wal-Mart card making jokes about her booty, I think it was an overall success for her turning the ripe old age of…
Wait, what
am I doing? That’s one of the
cardinal rules of womanhood. NEVER
reveal her age.
For full
effect, download “Der Bluten Kat” by Umphrey’s McGee and play at maximum volume
throughout the duration of this post.
As the
birthday evening was winding down there was a knock on her apartment door, and
in walked a man who could be classified as, well, let’s see, what category
would I put him in, a friendboy? Yeah, I think that would work. A guy who is more than just a friend to
her, but also not someone who is worthy of a changed relationship status. Come on, we’ve all had a few of those
in our lives, haven’t we?
As he
waltzed in hours after all the birthday events had ended, to wish her
congratulations and join the now almost dead festivities, he said he had a
sweet present for her. The Ted
Mosby inside me expected something like an overly stuffed bouquet of red roses,
or an authentically signed novel by her favorite author, or a cooler full of
her favorite brand of ice cream driven all the way from Texas. But instead, he gave her the cheapest
rip-off gift any pinhead friendboy could think of, a handmade coupon book.
Cue the roar
of groans and headslaps from the audience.
What is this, Mother's Day, 1991? Come on man, you're killing me! For those of
you who are unfamiliar with this cheap excuse of a present, the coupon book is
essentially a beggar’s way of giving a gift. It’s a few sheets of paper decorated with acts of service as
well as some of the quirks that defines one’s relationship all sketched out in
crayon, and I daresay every one of us has handed out one of these things
before, right along with a polyester tie and a hand-stitched batch of oven
mitts.
And then we all turned seven, and stopped being useless pieces of crap to our parents.
For the
record, I would like to issue yet another formal apology to the female gender
on behalf of muttonhead schmucks like this who feel a few stapled pieces of
construction paper with their handwriting on it constitutes a legitimate
present for you. Actions like
these are what help me understand why so many of you ladies out there settle
for the “projects” that litter the dating world every single day. If a girl ever gave me one of these,
there’s no question I would begin to consider batting for the other team.
Coupon Book
Project: “Can’t you see, this one says ‘Good for one 15-minute back
massage’. I would hold on to that
one.”
My Dear
Friend: (forced laughter) “Oh thank you.
That is so sweet.”
Coupon Book
Project: “And if you’re lucky, there is more where that came from. If you know
what I mean.”
Cue
perverted night stalker’s laughter from his end, and a whole slew of eyes being
rolled from everyone else's. This is
just wrong. Insensitive,
disgraceful, and flat out cruel to anyone who has this forced upon them,
especially my dear friend who had to sit through ten minutes of this joke. Gifts
like this cue Ryan Reynolds’ character talking to himself in the flick “Just
Friends” and stating as the camera zooms out, “You’re not worthy of a penis.”
To the
coupon book buffoon in the room next to me, neither are you.
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