Some slippers for my Mum. Why she can't send me to get something that doesn't make me look like a transsexual I don't know. Say, a watch. Or a pair of binoculars. Or a camera. Or a rat. Or an X-box.
There was a time when it was okay for a guy to go into a shop and buy ladies clothing, because it was taken as read that they were buying presents. No longer! Why this should be.... Well, who knows? Maybe it shows society still demonises cross-dressers, or finds them secretly fascinating. I don't have a beef with anybody... It's just that there are shops that specialise in the transgender scene, and that's where I'd have to go if I wanted a pair of dainty feminine slippers for myself (size 11).
Into the shoe shop. Find the right slippers, straight to the checkout.
"You want these slippers?" the lady asks.
"Errrrrr, yeah."
"Size 6?"
"They're for my Mum. Obviously."
She smiled at me.
"This bloke wants these slippers. Find 'em for him, size...
6."
Damn.
This exact same scenario happened to me last year, with the towelling bathrobe I had to go and fetch. I looked like a complete jackass as myself and three female shop assistants tried to find the sole pink ladies' bathrobe that wasn't screwed up into a ball or missing its belt. They insisted on holding the thing up to me, and tutting, and saying that it didn't suit my figure. No shit, I'm buying it for a woman who's half my height and weight.
The elderly lady at the checkout wouldn't meet my eye, keeping a stern air of reproach through the entire transaction; though I think that may be because I lost it and said "Oh, for fuck's sake, it's not for me" at some point. My memory's pretty hazy about the whole incident.
Other than that, it's a model bus for my dad, a set of computer jigsaws for my cousin and
The Crow on DVD for my other cousin.
"Oh, a lesson in not changing history from Mr I'm-My-Own-Grandpa! Let's get the hell out of here already! Screw history!" - Professor Farnsworth
Just so you know.
