So I've been giving myself a bit of a makeover lately.

My dress standards had never been all that terrible but, somewhere along the line, jeans and hoodies had become my default setting. And it was getting shit. And I was getting lazy. And god forbid, I was looking like some generic, suburban hetero. Like I should be in line at McDonalds, or walking to the newsagent to buy a copy of Sports Illustrated.

Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

So armed with my tax refund and a wad of cash I'd been saving up (I don't keep a credit card), I did what every other gay boy does on a Saturday morning (no, not his boyfriend) and jumped in the car to go clothes shopping in the city.

And it was...

Kinda boring, actually.

Since team breeder became team metrosexual, all the clothing stores stopped employing pretty gay boys and started employing hot chicks instead (sorry darling, but the only rack I'm interested in doesn't have a set of hands attached). So now, instead of browsing clothes stores and chatting up sales assistants, I'm forced to plug in my iPod and offer a polite 'no thank you' when the blonde with nice boobs comes over and offers to assist me in my selection. Seriously, what the f**k? Since when did clothes shopping become an anti-gay experience? Sure, it's nice to talk about pretty boys with a girl who meets her token gay friends for coffee and air-kisses every second Tuesday, but I'd much rather scope out coffee and air-kisses with a pretty boy who's sitting right in front of me.

And might I just add...

Staff discount.

Second only to my dream of dating a bartender is the dream of dating a nice, pretty sales assistant at a clothing store.

Again, staff f**king discount.

Anyway, back to the shopping, and I soon got bored with the usual suspects and wandered down to McDonalds to grab a frozen coke and regroup. Then I wandered into JB Hi-Fi and pondered buying One Tree Hill and Veronica Mars in their 'buy two, get one free' dvd sale they've got on at the moment. But I couldn't decide which box set to buy as my 'get one free' purchase, so I burnt that idea and went to get a haircut instead. The hairdresser was nice enough I suppose, but she used the word 'forte' in the wrong context. TWICE. Seriously, people who try to use big words and fail just piss me off. AND IT'S NOT EVEN THAT BIG A WORD.

And just to top it off, she did this weird combover thing at the end and it looked stupid. Literally, the moment I left the hairdresser, I rushed to a public toilet and spent the next 5 minutes re-doing my hair in a style that didn't look like a young Bob Saget. In reality, that actually meant putting on my ball cap to create 'hat hair', taking it off again after 2 minutes and de-Bob Saget-ing from there. I actually kinda liked it after that.

Anyway, I decided to label my city experience a complete failure and cruised out to the 'burbs and to try my luck at a department store. *gasp* That's right, a department store. All the shit in the city seemed over-priced and/or boring and/or ugly, so I decided to go for something a bit more simple and went shopping at a department store.

And you know what? It was brilliant.

The staff actually left me alone, and I got to wander around picking out things that I actually like. Just nice, simple, plain, comfortable things. Things without massive designs screen-printed across the front. OMG socks and underpants. And when I took it all to the counter, it didn't cost me half of Malawi's GDP.

Jesus christ, I think I might go back tomorrow!

Speaking of tomorrow, gotta hit the gym again. Only been twice this week. Not good enough. Depends how late I go to bed tonight, though. I've got a nice rhythm going on Chapter Six of The Things You Fear The Most, so I might sit up til 3am writing that.

Overall, I'm loving the gym though. The whole exercise/eating well thing is working out quite well for me. Lost heaps of fat/inches, apparently. 20cm off my waist, or something.

Put it down to self-restraint.

I've also managed to refrain from telling the personal trainer how much I'd like to lose 20cm in him.

You can put that down to self-restraint, too.

Night xx