Let’s shop! What? Can’t a normal dude get excited about strapping on his custom-made orthotics (built for comfort, not speed), sharpening the magnetic strip of his credit card and hopping into the Touring Car for a good old fashioned fabulous shopping spree? Granted, the shopping spree in question involves the procurement of a gasoline powered chainsaw, but that doesn’t make it any less magical. In fact, I would argue that shopping for your first chainsaw is even more magical than shopping for your first car or tuxedo/sequined roller disco unitard. There’s just something about the way the big box store’s pale flickering fluorescent lights play against the razor sharp cutters and drive links that line the chainsaw’s arm like a set of alligator incisors waiting to destroy everything in its path of unbridled animal carnage. Or maybe it’s the *thunk* of the chainsaw being set down on the checkout counter and the *beep* of the cashier scanning the awesome power tool’s barcode like she is stamping your Lumberjack License with a big fat APPROVED. Then again, maybe it’s the way all the other shoppers look at you as you gingerly place your chainsaw in the trunk of your periwinkle sedan, their wistful expressions suggesting, “That is one bad dude.” Call me a hopeless romantic, but chainsaw shopping is just about one of the most poetic experiences a person can possibly have. That, and pulling off a triple sow cow wearing your tuxedo/sequined roller disco unitard in front of dozens of other roller disco enthusiasts.