A Loco Viewpoint

Amazon Exploration

    Being a full-time writer, I spend much time in front of my computer, as my ever expanding posterior can tell you. (Always be conscious of your posterior talking behind your back.) Since I am already online constantly, anyway, it is only natural I would eventually take the plunge into the scary world of cyber-shopping.
    With my credit card clutched in my sweaty hand, leaving me only one finger for typing, I arduously, shakily, entered my card number and other top secret information into the shopping site. (For fear of litigation, I can’t tell you the name of the site but it rhymes with ‘Damazon”.)
    With my heart pounding like I’d pigged out on chocolate covered coffee beans, I studied the home-page. I was expecting it to say something like, “Dear Chris, on this page you will find all the things Cupcake wants for Christmas drastically reduced with free shipping.”
    Sadly, this was not the case. Nothing jumped out at me. I would still have to “go shopping” in their website and try to think of things she might like unaided. I decided to look at health and beauty aids. Heaven knows if anyone needs more health and beauty, it’s not Cupcake. However, being extremely female, she THINKS she needs health and beauty aids up the wazoo. She has gobs of goopy lotions and pots of smelly potions, a different one for every body part. Her inventory would be the pride and joy of any alchemist, especially those looking for age-defying nostrums. 
    The first item the website offered was called ‘First Aid Beauty Ultra Repair Cream’. I did not make that up. That is a real product, a real gutsy product. It occurred to me if Cupcake unwrapped some ‘First Aid Ultra Repairing Cream’, she would show her appreciation by using it on me first, but as a suppository, tube and all. 
    I decided to switch focus to strictly beauty products. When I think of health products, I think of things like bathroom and food scales, rowing machines and treadmills; any of which would be unfortunate choices for me to make for gift-giving options. If I bought her anything similar, if she ever talked to me again, it would be regarding my last wishes.
    I did look at some clothes for Cupcake. I thought it might be better than my usual strategy for buying her duds. I usually just hold up an article of clothing to a saleswoman and assess how much fatter or thinner the clerk is than Cupcake. I never reveal to either party what I’m doing or they would both kill me. 
    However, without a saleslady to hold something against, I was at a loss for what size to buy her. It is hard to just slip into a conversation.
    “So, Honey,” I imagine saying, “We’re out of toilet paper and, by the way, what is your dress size?”      Nope.
    “Sorry, dear, but my eyes are bad,” I might also try, while holding her dainty under-things. “On the tag, does the size have any x’s? If so, how many?”   Maybe not.
    I pondered buying everything in super-petite size, save receipts, and tell Cupcake that’s what size I was sure she was. At least it would be a compliment. The clothes wouldn’t even have to be that stylish since she’d be returning them anyway. I then realized we never, ever, take anything back, send away for the rebate or use coupons like Mr. and Mrs. Smart Shopper. Frankly, we hate Mr. and Mrs. Smart Shopper for not just being anal, but for bragging about how much money they saved. 
    I gave up on the clothing idea. She has tons in her closet anyway. Inexplicably, she doesn’t wear most of them. I have no idea why. When I asked recently, she said, “Those are all summer clothes.” 
    In summer, they all magically turn into winter clothes. Apparently she has clothes for every season, but whatever season we’re in.
    Risking masculinity, I read the directions. According to the site, you could shop by department. Now we’re cooking with gas, I thought. It will definitely narrow the search.
    I studied the choices. Appliances. No way. I remember what happened when I got her the steam iron for Mothers’ Day. I still have a scar there with dots in the exact same pattern as the steam holes. 
    “Accidents do happen,” Cupcake said in explanation. She was talking about me accidently buying her a steam iron for Mother’s Day.
    Arts, Crafts and Sewing. I don’t think that’s really Cupcake’s bag. She’s crafty, but not the hot-melt glue type of crafty. She’s more of a “make baked beans for supper on dart night to get even for something”, kind of crafty.
    Baby needs: Thank heavens, no!
    Books: Yes, Cupcake likes books. Unfortunately, I don’t know which ones she’s read and which ones she hasn’t in the genre she prefers (CSI blood and guts spectaculars. At least you don’t have to watch the slow motion gory graphics, although the writers probably describe every wound in minute detail. If I want blood and guts, I’ll eat a hot dog.)
    Collectibles and fine art. But not one picture of dogs playing poker.
    Electronics: She says the only tablet she needs is an Aspirin which is definitely not an android product.
    Home and Kitchen: Right. Ever since she’s been the one working outside the home, while I stay in the house to do my job, the only time she goes in the kitchen is to suggest things that need cleaning. 
    Eventually I gave up. I am no better at online shopping than I am at 3D shopping. It is impossible to buy something for someone who already has everything. 
    She gets mad when I say that for some reason and I’ll never know why.




 
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