As I am not particularly grumpy today, just my normal slightly grumpy self, and seeing the slightly sad demise of the toys behemoth, 'Toys R Us', I remembered back to Christmas shopping, which due to the fact I'd come back to the UK before Christmas this year I'd had to partake in. Gift cards and buying a toilet for a third world country through an online charity gift store weren't going to cut the mustard this year.
So there I was, wandering up and down the 'Barbie aisle' in my local Toys R Us, slowly slipping into stupification. You know, this isn't an auspicious start to a blog post written by a middle-aged man is it? It's bordering on creepy, but trust me, it gets better! Anyway, there I was, gazing in a mix of wonderment and panicked confusion at the rows of miniature made up plastic zombies and not knowing quite what to buy. With two days left until Christmas, the clock was ticking ever louder and the choice wasn't going to make itself.
Here's the situation. I had 2 presents to buy. One for a 13-year-old boy, the other for a 6-year-old girl. The children of my best friends. Having no kids of my own, this was a very alien experience for me.
Simply arriving at the shop had been rather traumatic for me, my eyes transfixed by that huge Toys R US sign, that reversed 'R' staring defiantly back at me, seeming to know how much I hated it being the wrong way around and tempting me into an OCD induced rage before I'd even entered the bloody shop. Thank god there is no facility to mimic this on 'mark-down', although if anyone actually reads this, and there is a way to do it; Don't, just don't!
Now to be fair, Jamie's gift was quite easy. He's a typical 'gross but in a nice way' kind of lad so anything that explodes, burps, farts, stinks or frightens his Mum half to death was going to be perfect, though I had to be a little careful, as his Mum had never forgotten the drum-kit I'd bought him for his 4th birthday. Drum-kits are a true test of friendship it seems. Soon enough, I'd spotted 'Gross Magic', perfect. The tagline read; 'Magic is back - but this time it's in the toilet'. Excellent, just the job. Two minutes in, and one present down and I grabbed the box triumphantly from the shelf. The euphoria then rapidly ebbed away and I suddenly became overwhelmed with dread at the second and definitely more daunting task ahead.
Buying presents for a 6-year-old girl without the safety net of a parents advice can only be comparable to that feeling you get when you're about to drop a flag on a whale's post on Steemit. You can't help but feel you're about to make a terrible mistake.
I took a deep breath, and attempted rationality, I mean, how hard could it be? I wasn't totally without a clue as I knew she liked 'Barbie' from her Mum's numerous FB status updates. The answer to this rhetorical conundrum soon manifested itself in reality as I turned the corner into the valley of the dolls. Clutching 'Gross Magic' in my slightly trembling and perspiring hands I was met with the sight of millions, possibly billions of brightly coloured boxes containing trillions of painted, unmoving eyes staring at me.
Then there were the little girls and their Mums. Hordes of them, hissy fitting and almost apoplectic at the heinous child abuse they were suffering. Brought into this heavenly and magical world they'd been brought by their Mum's to help buy dolls for other peoples kids or to choose a doll for themselves that they wouldn't be able to play with for a further couple of days. Mums. That's evil!
This gender bias was magnified as I realised that all the dads were with their sons down the 'Scalextric' isle looking at radio controlled cars and other such traditional boys toys. Toys R Us were actually responsible for setting back gender equality by many years. I wondered about just buying another box of 'Gross Magic' before running away quickly with my concience full of self righteousness but then I realised this wouldn't help as if I was using fake political correctness as an excuse to get this over with quickly, I'd have to actually buy Jamie a doll to balance it. The balance would be restored but it wouldn't give me a 'get out of jail free card' from the 'Barbie' aisle, and after the drum-kit affair, might be a tipping point with regards to the friendship of my 'besties'.
At this point, I remembered the danger in making assumptions. I'd assumed that 'Barbie' was the typical All-American girl (or for English readers, Essex girl), slim waist, blonde hair, blue eyes, long legs and big boobs but no! There were millions of different Barbies. In a poor attempt to either be politically correct, or as my cycnical mind pondered, appeal to a wider audience with the only objective of selling more dolls, there were black dolls with afros, Latina dolls with rounded bums and petite Asian dolls in saris. Boxes of pathetic miniature stereotypes as far as the eyes could see.
And then there were celebrity lookalike dolls, and for a second, I toyed with idea of buying a Beyonce doll for myself to wire up to my car's battery in an attempt to create my own 'Weird Science' moment, until I saw the Hannah Montana Doll, how long she'd been sat on the shelf is anyone's guess. Thank god it didnt sing. She wasn't even reduced in price! Then there was a Disney Princess Jasmine doll, that had a strangely alluring and attractive quality to it. At this point, I decided it was probably time to leave!
You see? She's really cute!
To be continued due to the fact I've left my charger at home and I'm in the library on my laptop. In the next part, I get seriously grumpy!
Thanks for reading thus far.
