And I just totally forgot that I have a bottle of WKD next to me. Weird night.

I always remember Christmas shopping for walking around town in the dark in my school uniform, looking around for presents for everyone whilst freezing my nads off.

Different this year... It didn't get dark so quickly, I don't wear a school uniform anymore and I wasn't shopping for everyone.

There are only four friends I'm buying Christmas presents for this year: Lemon, Hooker, Anner and Mo-Balls. I lovelovelove shopping for these guys. On my birthday I dragged Lemon around town with me and bought her lots and lots of stuff which left her despairing over how much I'd spent on her (to be fair I bought stuff for Mo-Balls, Anner and Hooker as well). I went clothes shopping with Hooker and discovered that yes, shopping with a gay is a rare delicacy, but shopping for a gay is an absolutely Nightmare with a capital N, even if he's only half a gay.

Mo-Balls is especially hard to shop for because she's like... vintage and stuff, and likes strange things like old opera glasses and garters (her dad bought her boyfriend a garter a few months ago for The Rocky Horror Picture Show - très amusant) so I asked her and got THE most ambiguous reply ever: "Just get me something cheap from the Borders closing down sale."

Excuse me for a moment... AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

Ahem.

I trecked across down in the fog and cold for two hours and found lots of little things for other people, but Mo-Balls? No. I ended up heading towards Cath Kidson, which is a big mistake if you are on my somewhat limited budget.

Cath Kidson... Very twee, quite nice and most of all very expensive. The first time I went past I stopped myself before I went in, but then I decided I might as well take a look...

Tiny weeny rubber ducks - £4.99 (normal price, 75p, tops.)
Strange tacky hair clip - £7.99 (I've had people give me them for free on the market)
A single hair bobble - £6.50 (Normal price, 30p for 20)

What the hell is wrong with that place?

And of course I couldn't have a shopping trip without having a run-in with the staff of one store or another...

Imagine the scene: Scruffy teenager stood in Cath Kidson - high-end, v.plush shop - with hoodie bought on sale at H&M, jeans that were bought in the UK's equivalent of WalMart and are now ripped and worn beyond repair, shoes that are faded and scuffed and a bag that has definitely seen better days. The staff - pretty, primped and straight-laced twentysomethings who had a humour bypass at birth and have a silver spoon rammed up their arse. One of the clerks sees me looking at a flowery tape measure and sniffs. My eyes narrow, she goes bug-eyed. I put down the tape measure, bury my hands in my hoodie, scowl like I mean it and say "I wouldn't be here if I was buying for myself."

The lady doesn't even try to look apologetic. Stuck up bitch.

And I have a full day of working in a shop and extra Christmas shopping tomorrow to cause more problems. Yippee...