“I do like Christmas on the whole ... In its clumsy way, it does approach Peace and Goodwill. But it is clumsier every year.”

- E.M. Forster

Ho, ho, ho, it's Christmastime again. That wonderful time of year when all mankind can come together and share in the time-honored traditions of shopping, snowy weather conditions, crowded malls, screaming children, stringing up lights, and, of course, dealing with fruitcakes and other family members.

For men, this is a time that brings on a load of emotional stresses. Most of us can't cook, so when our wives and girlfriends are in the kitchen rekindling baking secrets, most of us can do nothing more than linger around waiting for the cookies. We also don't like to shop all that much, so spending time in a store looking at women's clothing is both embarrassing and dangerous.

It's embarrassing because I don't know about you but have you ever had to stand there with a straight face and say, “Does this sweater look nice?” At first the cashier will look at the clothing; and then she will look at you. Try not to get offended as the sales girl starts picturing you in that sweater with the words “Hottie” written on it. What's worse is when she says it looks great because now you don't know if she is talking about the fabric or the image of you cross dressing. And why would shopping be dangerous? The simple truth is this; purchasing a woman any type of clothing is in the same vein as trying to play beach volleyball in the middle of a minefield; no matter how well you did, you will be destroyed in the end. All I can say is, when it comes to women's fashion apparel, the term “one size fits all” should never be used as a guideline when making purchases. Ever.

So what are our manly responsibilities toward this holiday? Lights and trees, that's it. So, seeing as that's the job for us, we have to do what we always do with any given task; we complicate it.

You'd think getting a tree would be simple, but instead of driving to a parking lot and picking up one of the wrapped-up pines that are lying there we have to “testosterone” the procedure. So it was there that my friend Jeff and I were, in the middle of a forest, looking for the perfect tree with an axe that would make Paul Bunion jealous.

“That one's cute.”

“That one's too big at the bottom.”

“Oh man, this one's beautiful.”

From the way we were checking out the different shrubs you'd wonder if we were going to chop down a tree or start dating it.

Lights, on the other hand, are a totally different job. For men, the term “less is more” will never be uttered. We aren't happy till every shingle is electrified and the house resembles something from the Vegas strip. We yell about the heating bill, but won't bat an eye at adding a few million kilowatts to our displays. Which is why we leave them up all year, because a cookie might last a moment, lights can last all year.

Auburn native Bradley Molloy's column appears here,

each Sunday, in The Citizen.

He can be reached at lovonian@hotmail.com