It's a friend's birthday tomorrow and I had this strange dilemma of choosing a gift for him today. Strange because, I dont usually have a "dilemma" for such things. I am not finicky about said emotional tokens. But this time I thought I will put a lil thought into it.
I am maturing, you see.
I walked into the nearby bookstore and started browsing. I soon realized that it was a HUGGGGEEE *extends both her hands wide* bookstore with LOTTTTSSA books *still extending* (Brobdingnagian collection, if my recent education is to be put to use). If you are a semi-regular reader of this blog, you ought to know that I am not the ideal book-picker you would come across.
But, I am maturing.
Anyway, I always believed that men are simple to figure out. Pretty much as simple as say, hmm.. any woman. So I had a drift what would appeal to such transpicuous species. More over, this kid was such an old friend of mine, I could guess his AOL password is, in four attempts.
I walked up to the Art section.
Six minutes, only six minutes... it took me to walk out of the aisle with the book. The funny looks and bemused expressions that courted me as I walked away, hastened my feet. I cursed having to wear stockings on a humid Wednesday afternoon. Riders of the.. errm.. storm.
I slided the book at the counter and asked, "Could you gift wrap this please?" The teller at the counter gives a lil nod, and a tacit smile... pushing a card forward.
I scribble something on the card and the teller did his bit.
The old lady who was next to me at the book aisle was now behind me and murmured some sweet lil curse under her breath. Her Victorian self had better taste in books I reckoned. I thought that would be a good moment to feel a lil embarassed at the choice I made. I chose to lay over the moment, however.
I picked up the book and made my way back to the office. (First day, remember?)
As I sit here as the clock ticks away the final moments of my first (and unproductive) day at the office, I look at the wrapped box next to the screen and a card that reads, "May you never have to use this for what it was made to be. Happy Birthday!" I realize I am not really that mature.
I also realize I have bad English.
Under the polka dotted wrapper lies - 50 years of Playboy, Collector's Edition.