Unfortunately a friend of mine recently found himself in a hospital bed. I wanted to do something to lift his spirits, but what would that be?
For a female, easy - you bring flowers. She looks at the splash of colour, thinks of you thinking of her, and smiles. Mission accomplished.
But men don't stare at flowers and think 'oh, pretty!' But they do seem to like staring at naked chicks... So I thought, what better then a playboy magazine to brighten his day! He can stare at the pictures and think 'oh, pretty!' or whatever guys think when they look at the naked lady pictures, and when he's bored of staring he can read the articles. They must be good - that is why guys buy them after all. But in order to do this, I had to ask a couple guys I work with where to find a playboy magazine. Hoping they would suggest a place that had self checkouts, I was very disappointed to hear that not only would I have to go to a convenience store, but I would likely have to ask the dude at the counter for it. They also said that playboy was a good choice - for the articles of course - but added that in Penthouse or Hustler the pictures were better and they had less articles taking up space than Playboy. Ok. Good to know. Wait. But don't you buy them FOR the articles?? Nevermind.
So at 11am, when I suspect the convenience store business is slow, I ventured off to a 7-11 far from my home and workplace. I went to the magazine aisle and found a Men's Health, a Maxium, and a Playboy. But remembering that the guys said 'Penthouse' or 'Hustler' I searched and searched. Nope. Damn. I'm going to have to ASK for that one. Ok, I can do this. Yup.just after all the innocent customers here for bubble gum and newspapers clear out...after 15 minutes hiding in the chocolate bar aisle, the place finally cleared out! I saw my chance and I took it. I casually threw my men's magazines and Reese cups on the counter.
Calm. Cool. Collected.
He was ringing in my playboy when I blurt out, 'do you got any penthouse or hustler back there?' (yes - I said 'do you got.')
The clerk looked up at me very seriously. "No ma'am," he replies. "7-11 and MAC's, we do not carry REAL porn."
A bit stunned at the response, having expected it to all be over in the next three minutes, I hear myself say "Oh, uh.do you uh know where can I get some?"
Now he just looks sorry for me. "Ma'am, I really don't know. You could try the grocery store three blocks down. My parents used to own a store and they carried the real good magazines, but no more. I don't know where to go. Maybe ask them at the grocery store down there." He points.
Oh geez. I pay. I leave. I never look him in the eye.
As I'm driving back to the office I pass the grocery store he mentioned. I hesitate, then think, no, I just can't start walking into random establishments asking for dirty magazines. If I knew they had them, ok, but I'm not just going to roll the dice.
So I drive past. But then I see the 'Toy Box'. The windows are covered in black paper, paint is peeling off the door, but a little "OPEN" sign draws me in. If the Toy Box doesn't have 'REAL' porn then no place will. I enter. I scan quickly, I see no one, I spot a magazine rack to my right. JACKPOT! I quickly go over, the sooner I get out the better. I reach down to grab the first glossy Penthouse I see.
The moment my fingers touch the plastic packaging I hear, "My, my, I see you know EXACTLY what you are looking for and EXACTLY where to find it!"
Note to self: next time in sex shop spend first 3 minutes looking confused and disoriented.
I slowly turn to see a sweaty, creepy dude right behind me.
Note to self: next time enter sex shop, bring bear spray.
Turns out creepy guy was the sales guy. He told me he was in the back doing some 'housekeeping' when I had come in, but the beads of sweat indicated perhaps something other than light dusting. I didn't care, I just wanted out. I wanted to pay. I wanted to go. I wanted my mommy.
Note to self: never enter sex shop again. What 7-11 doesn't sell, I don't need!
FYI - Female or Male - if you end up in the hospital and a package arrives from me - trust me - it's flowers.