In Which Gifts Are Purchased

I’m a little out of sorts, Gentle reader. Maman is on a date as we speak – good for her! – and the neighbor invited her to be involved in a menage-a-trois yesterday. Which is also good for her, I suppose; she declined.

I haven’t done a lick of holiday shopping, this year, because, since the move to the farm, I’ve been… well, destitute. Therefore, the last time I went to go shopping for giftswas one year ago today. After I got off work, my friend and co-worker (with whom I was a little in love – we no longer speak) and I, with his girlfriend and a mutual friend-

-This is getting cumbersome. New blog policy: While I will still do my best to avoid using people’s names, I’m going to use initials. Sorry for the interruption. Let’s try this again:

These people and one more. Did that clarify?

These people and one more. Did that clarify?

After I got off work, my friend and co-worker A.,(with whom I was a little in love – we no longer speak) and I, with his girlfriend, Little-What’s-Her-Name* (who I naturally detested), and our mutual friend H., took the ferry from Bremerton to Seattle. If you’ve never been on it, it takes about an hour, and at night, in the winter, approaching the city, it is one of the most magnificent things – the well-lit, gleaming towers rising above the oily vastness of the dark black sea, a wisp or six of cloud and fog hang, listless, in front of the curiously yellow moon. A handful of sugar stars tossed into the blackness complete the scene. In short, it’s gorgeous.



Once there, we went through various tiny shops, hunting for treasures, as one does. Not having much luck, we turned to one of the many malls about the town, where this happened:Image

I have a thing for whimsy.

The folks at the Disney Store were equal parts amused and confused, and I was asked to leave.

At a different shop, I found another new experience, with which some of my readers are more familiar: Crickets. For snacking on. They’re freeze-dried, these particular ones had some sort of cheddar-and-onion flavouring powder put on them, and they, predictably, are terrible. In my opinion, they tasted like a stale cracker. A nasty stale cracker.


Everyone but A. tried one, and agreed. Despite my constant tirades about how “Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death”, and how you have to constantly try new experiences or go stagnant, A kept refusing to even try the damned things. It took a cash bribe to persuade him. Oi.

Now, Little-What’s-Her-Name can’t stand anyone but A., and I think that A. and H. were feuding at that point in time. Tempers were flaring, everyone was cranky, and at this point, Little-What’s-Her-Name threw a fit because A. couldn’t afford to buy her the makeup that she was lusting over. Therefore, we called it a night, and made the long, drear, drive back to our homes, not a single gift in hand.


*I know that I said I was going to use initials, but I actually called her this, to her face, for a year or two, and it clearly expresses how much I detested her.

About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
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1 Response to In Which Gifts Are Purchased

  1. ekgo says:

    When I was in Seoul, there was a street vendor who was frying up grubs. He’d put a spoonful in one of those little paper bowl-like rectangles (like hot dogs sometimes come in when you’re out and about) and you could choose different sauces to put on your fried grubs.
    I chose spicy sauce because it was my hope that spicy would kill any intestinal disruptions potentially brought about by eating grubs.
    They weren’t bad. They weren’t good, either, but much better than the sheep intestines I had later in the year.
    So I’d have tried the crickets.

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