I am one of those very rare people who both buy and appreciate presents from both of these irreconcilable retail areas.
For this reason, my shopping for Christmas is already done. For everyone.
And it took me about two hours.
Naturally, I spent a little longer on the clever presents, the thoughtful gifts that took into account the vast size of the recipients' intelligence and taste, their high moral code, and superior grasp of aesthetics.
And for the grandchildren, a recognition that only the cerebrally highest parcel would suffice.
I bought nine cleverdick presents. Ironically, these were found on the one-day online auction site, incongruously called 1-Day.
The people at 1-Day - and I have dealt with them for aeons so I am not talking out of the side of my neck - are very hip to what people with big brains like.
This year they exceeded themselves with a remarkable trio of $10 offers called Santa's Sack of Crap For Men, Santa's Sack of Crap For Women, and Santa's Sack of Crap For Kids.
I bought three of each.
Santa's Sack of Crap, essentially auction items unsold and unwanted, is guaranteed to be worth at least $10, but here's the kicker, there may be stuff in there worth up to $800.
The word laptop was mentioned.
Phew!
Now you only have to be able to count at year 2 level to realise you cannot lose with a deal like this.
Plus you have the element of surprise: not only does the giftee not know what he or she are getting, but neither does the gifter.
This is what makes Christmas Day the magnificent day it is.
But although it wounds me to admit this, not all my friends are intellectually gifted.
Some would buy anything that comes down the pike, especially if it is advertised on the telly.
These people buy what everyone else is buying, every Christmas.
The Best of Elton John, scorched almonds, anything pushed by Suzanne Paul.
Fortunately, TVNZ, of all people - gosh, I have criticised them so much this year - have come up with a spellbinder for this Christmas.
The television ads begin on Thursday.
Yes, the thing that will be sticking badly wrapped from the top of everyone's stocking this Christmas morning will be the boxed set of the utterly riveting Natural History New Zealand series Our Big Blue Backyard, which concluded memorably with Stewart Island and sharks on TV One last Sunday.
It is almost a shame that my family and friends who love and demand seriously superior presents like what's inside Santa's Sacks of Crap will not be getting Our Big Blue Backyard for Christmas this year simply because it is filled with lowest-common-denominator mass appeal features like magnificent photography and music, compelling story lines, and unrelenting sex.
Well, perhaps not unrelenting, but this series has shown me that barnacles have penises, and frozen me rigid with startling footage of a multitude of underwater creatures bonking like boodlespam, the only known kelp that can actually procreate, albeit only in autumn.
I bet very few people knew in dolphin sex, the woman is always on top.
Though, when you think about it, that's life, innit?
Our Big Blue Backyard has rated as well as TV One's News and way better than The Voice, X Factor and other dubious crowd-pullers.
Negotiations are already being banged on boardroom tables for a second series.
I am glad I am thick and someone will give me a boxed set this Christmas.
I sure would hate to get a Sack of Crap.
• Roy Colbert is a Dunedin writer.
