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<I'm Rethinking My Aversion to Mall Shopping>

What's a guy to do? Here it is, the weekend, my two days off, and I'm being dragged to the Mall. My spouse, Markey, decided that today was the day she would use the gift card her mother gave her last Christmas, never mind that we are now in October, almost a year later. She said she was concerned that they would apply a charge or cancel the card that was worth Three hundred bucks. Her thought process had her figuring that we should make our way to the food court, grab a chicken sandwich--red meat is a no-no--a diet coke, and maybe share an order of fries. After lunch, watch out Mather's, here she comes; arms flailing, hands touching, feet being stuffed in god-awful so-called stylish shoes, dressing rooms being dumping grounds for discarded items, and hours passing until the three hundred is exhausted and the card left smoking. I tried to convince her it would be more fun if we stayed home. I offered her the opportunity to pull my pee-pee and if she did, I would wash her nook clean more than once, and darn it, I would even use my own tongue in doing it. She gave me a strange look, walked to the door and ordered, "Get your ass ready to go! If you don't, I won't pull your pee-pee for the next month." I got ready to go. She always follows through with her threats. I don't want to be forced to pull my own pecker for a month.

"What do I do while all that is happening? Usually I stand around grinning at the sales clerks or customers. If I get lucky, I can find a ...

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