I am such a tool and gadget guy. I think it has something to do with my DNA make up. If tools could procreate I’m sure I would be reincarnated as a toolbox.

Thank God for my wife. If I were single my wardrobe would consist of self-cleaning underwear and Nike sweats. Throw in a roll of duct tape and a hundred feet of 3/8” manila rope and I will become Master Handy Man. Doctoring, plumbing, electrical, fencing and carpentry work are my missions and expertise. It’s like a Wild West country doctor, cowboy thing.

So gifts for me on those special or not so special occasions are easy.

Buy me a label-maker and: socks, shorts, cups, saucers, doors, locks and sinks will be monogrammed within a week.

Cordless drills? I am like the bigamist of cordless drills. One is not enough. This is a gift I will always roll over like Rover for. Two for each room including bathrooms and three for each of my cars is mandatory.

Mention ratchet or socket to me and my shorts get tight.

Anything purchased from “Napa Auto Parts” even if it’s a starter motor for a Ford Fairlane 500 gets me warm and fuzzy. “I know I can use that for something. Don’t even think about throwing that out woman.”

I am not allowed to own a chain saw for obvious reasons. Sort of like the label maker syndrome.

Stepladders? Leave those for the women and children. No, I want extension ladders, I have ladder envy, the bigger the better. I want every male neighbor begging to use my extension every Saturday morning.

Home Depot? God lives here and I am one of his apostles. “I’ll roam the isles looking for poor lost souls needing my gadgetry guidance. Signs, walkway Lights, front doors, basement doors and toilets. It’s your choice.” : John 22: Isle# 15.

I window shop at Radio Shack, Circuit City and Best Buy. Sky Mall magazine provides one hour of in-flight kill time during air travel. I have never purchased anything from this catalogue (I don’t know anyone who has) but have threatened to do so on every flight.

I am not a cook but barbecuing and barbecues light my fire. Rare ... medium ... well done..... I’ve got all three types of burns on my hands from barbecuing.

I want one of those complete kitchen barbecues. You’ve seen them; they have four burners, a heating bin, refrigerator compartment and a hook up for a sink. I want mine with an industrial sized garbage disposal and toilet. This way I can dispose of my garbage and relieve myself and not miss a flip. Plus you never have enough bathrooms. Sort of like the cordless drill theory. There is nothing like downloading out doors.

Here is a tip for those who live in a rural area and have deer feeding off all your flowers and shrubbery. Go to your local super market and buy a case of beer. That’s right beer. Drink as many bottles or cans that it takes to tap the faucet, if you know what I mean.

Now go outside and urinate on all of your plants and shrubs. Not only will the deer refuse to go near your fertilizing but also you get a good excuse to piss off your neighbors. The deer will attack their yards and you get a good buzz on. I suggest that you do this procedure at night and please no singing. Try explaining that to sheriff Redneck with half a load on as he parades you to the back seat of his cruiser.

Never repress anything but your pants.