Tuesday, August 3, 2010
"You didn't make him do anything!"
Unlike much of this blog, what you will read in this post is non-fiction. I didn't italicize the whole thing, but consider it so.
Every once in a while, I feel compelled to take some time to make a drive around, maybe set myself up for some humiliation. Let me begin by telling you how I was attired...
I was wearing the shirt on the right over a blue bra stuffed with water balloons. The bra was somewhat visible under the shirt. On top was a heart-shaped pendant in a purple and black leopard pattern. On my right wrist were four plastic beaded bracelets in pink, blue, and white.
I was wearing a denim miniskirt with a ripped hem over a pair of black capri-length leggings. I was wearing denim girls' skater shoes. Oh, and a pink should-length wig.
So I stop and wash my car, about a ten-minute process, before driving past a pizza shop. I take down the number, and place a call after hacking for about 5 minutes to alter my voice. This is the call that I placed:
CashierL "Hello, XXX pizza, XXX speaking. Pick-up or delivery?"
Me: "Pick-up please."
"What can I get for you?"
"Just an order of bread sticks."
"Okay, what's the name?"
"Candy? Okay...it'll be ready in ten minutes."
"One more thing. Just so you know, Candy is a guy who actually lost a poker game, so he's gonna be dressed in his sister's clothes. Part of the bet is he has to do anything any girl tells him to, so feel free to make do a little dance for you or something."
"Ooookay....I'll keep that in mind."
The cashier sounded to be in high school or college, which usually is the best for finding someone with a latent interest in seeing and humiliating feminized men.
So about eight minutes later, I pull up, refreshen my lip gloss (can you believe I forgot my purse!?) and I see two young women, one obviously a worker at the pizza place, lounging in front of it. There's no customers inside. I get out and walk up.
"So....you must be Candy." She lets me in, friend following. And would you believe that all she wanted to talk about while I waited was what hand I had in poker? I made up having a full house brought down by a straight, etc., and that was it. I finally get the breadsticks, and pay.
Just as I'm leaving, I hear the friend say to the cashier in some outrage "you didn't make him do anything!" Which pretty well matched my sentiments. So I waited, pinwheeled, and re-entered claiming that I needed a receipt to prove that I'd actually bought the stuff myself. While it's printing, do the cashier or friend order me to do anything? No!
So the exposure was fun, and I still have the receipt that is headed with "Candy for pick-up"...but it could have been better. And that's what I did this past weekend.