tellhimfred.com

Dont’ you love it when CVS has their Christmas crap out in October? I know I do. It’s not Thanksgiving yet, and you can already witness questionable-smelling individuals buying tubs of peanut M&Ms, hair dryers, batteries, Rhinocort and floss for their loved ones’ holiday cheer. Good Lord, the last thing you want to see when you’re at CVS waiting in line to buy your tube of anti-itch cream and your extra-firm toothbrush is someone with a goddamn shopping cart.

Unlike CVS Shoppers, I have a great idea that the whole family will love. I suggest emptying out every container in your house and filling them with gasoline at today’s price. Holy shit, have you seen the pumps? The national average, based on a survey of like 1,000 gas stations is something like a buck ninety-seven. Des Moines is supposedly the nationwide low at like $1.87, but cruising through the sticks of southeastern MA on Thursday I saw a pump that read $1.83.

I’m telling you, nothing says “Merry Christmas” like a milk carton full of $1.83 gas.

We just moved into a condo this year, smack in the middle of the city. Well, by “the middle” I mean “the part where until fairly recently you had a reasonable chance of being murdered for your jacket.” but nevertheless it’s in a decent part of town in the city. As we all know, Boston is to parking spaces as law school students are to “interesting”, and our area is no exception. We do, however, have ONE deeded space, which is to be cherished and guarded like your 15-year old daughter’s virtue when Cutty is nearby.

Right now, that space is occupied by the better half’s Honda Civic, which I am considering naming “The Revenant” for purposes I do not care to disclose. I myself have long been a purveyor of the MBTA and its fine products, which do not at this time include “on-time”, “reliable” or “unlikely to induce stroke”, but which nevertheless manage to get me to work on a daily basis. With the coming of the winter, however, and the impending certainty of night classes which start, across town, 30 minutes after I get out of work, the chance of me using the MBTA to get there reliably on time drops to levels approaching those of “the likelihood that joining a D&D group in high school will net you some high-quality poontang.”

So what’s a city-dweller with a mortgage and one filled parking space to do? That’s right, ride a motorcycle in the winter. Scarves, heavy gloves, several thermal layers and prayers to ward off frostbite. That’s what I want for Christmas. A few gallons of 11/24/2008 gas wouldn’t hurt either.

Fack, it’s gonna be cold.