May 29th, 2006


Just what are you trying to tell me Ma?

My mom just came back from a trip to Italy and immediately told me that she'd bought me a present. She said it was a really good one. I looked forward to its delivery with trepidation. This is my mother, and a really good present means a really expensive one that will in no way match my tastes but will require oodles of false gratitude.

She pulled the item from her suitcase with excitement and handed it to me. It was bigger than a breadbox and wrapped in a burlap bag. I undid the outer bag, reached in, and pulled it out.

A manpurse.

"This is a manpurse, mom." I said. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do with a manpurse."

"Don't you like it."

"Uhhh...yeah. Sure. A for my tastes though. Not that there's anything wrong with that."

"It's not gay. It's hand-made out of fine Italian leather."

Either my mom doesn't know what gay is, or she's really trying to tell me something.