CULTURE
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••••••••••••••••••••••
ou’re tapped out. You’re tired out. You
don’t know what to buy anymore, and
you don’t really care. Well, listen up.
A colorful little store with 10
Portland-area locations (one near you) has the
answer to all your holiday buying woes. It’s
called The Dollar Tree, and everything in it
costs a dollar. Not only can you afford the stuff,
it’s easy to keep track of what you spend.
Just Out investigative reporters have already
done the hardest part: They went in ahead of
you. Each got $5 to buy five gifts for loved ones.
Here’s what happened.
Floyd is a shopper to be reckoned with
A day late and a dollar short
Let Just Out help you say goodbye
to last-minute shopping stress
know exactly who these will go to, but I’ve got
no shortage of aging party boys to choose from.
Erin Sexton: Just Out Advertising Assistant,
kick-ass lesbo activist, can’t wait to have kids
Five bucks, eh? No problem. I took Jessica,
our Gresham High School senior volunteer, out
to do some last-minute gift shopping
with an idea: What were your favorite
presents to receive when you were a
child? If you said socks and underwear, I
am henceforth revoking your childhood
and giving it to a noisy kid.
The goal: Obtain five clanging,
chugging, ringing gifts to give to my
children...I mean co-workers.
First we found a delightful set of
brassy bells to hang on a doorknob. No,
for a real doorknob! Sheesh.
Then we
moved on to
the pink
and blue
rubber
spider that
squeaks loudly
when you
aw
^ J H f"
squeeze it.
Look before
you sit.
Floyd Sklaver: free-lancer writer, long
term relationship, suburbanite
The Dollar Tree is the kind of place where
you’re hound to buy stuff you don’t need just
because it costs a dollar. But I’m on a mission—
and in luck. Walking down the first aisle, I find
an elastic scungie made out of fuschia-colored
hair— perfect for my favorite
drag queen, Amanda
B. Reckonedwith.
In the next aisle,
toys (no, not those
kind), I find the
Smart Fireman with
movable arms and
it
head for my friend
Roger, who loves fire
men so much he gets
hot whenever he hears a siren. (OK, maybe it
will be that kind of toy).
Next is foodstuffs, where a Kittle of pickles
leaps out at me for my lesbian friend Riley, six
months pregnant and craving all kinds of odd
things. 1 get her the sliced dills because she
won’t put anything resembling a penis in
Erin revisits her childhood
her mouth (artificial insemination).
Finally, next to the cash register are key
chains. 1 grab two: One says, “Forty is the Ulti
mate F Word,” and the other says, “Looking for
a man who hates football and can cook.” I don’t
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Michael Wayne Keck: free-lance writer,
young, loves hair gel
First, I got my grandma this hideous little
basket filled with sculpted soaps because if
there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that there’s
nothing a grandma likes more than scented,
lime-green, seashell-looking doodads.
Speaking of doodads, what do you get a dad?
It’s an age-old problem that’s been around
longer than Bob Barker. Last year I got
Dad a nice ink pen, the year before a
snazzy tie, this year...dress socks. It’s the
thought that counts, right?
For my roommate, Abby, bless her
cute little pigtail-wearing heart, I got
some hair clips. She keeps telling me she
wants her hair to look like Jennifer
Aniston’s. As every gay boy should know,
that takes a stylist, a lot of product or at least
some damn hair clips.
For my friend Kevin, I got
a key chain that says, “Looking
for a man who hates football
and can cook.” I’m not sure if
that’s from the
Bible or not, but it
*>Tv; .
really reached out
and spoke to me.
Last but not
least for the person
who.. .do I really need
to say why I got a 13-inch
flute for someone? Use
your imagination.
Marty Davis: Just Out Publisher, no
friends, loves dog
Fuck. It’s festive holiday gift giving time.
Usually by this time of the year I’ve pissed off
everyone I know and don’t have to shop. So
where did I go wrong this time?
All right, flush with $5 in my pocket I
head off for my big 15-minute
holiday shopping spree. Note
to self: Don’t have this prob
lem next year.
For my favorite gay guy,
Stubby, I happen upon
gaily packaged
“Pocket Rockets.”
These charming
suppository-shaped
“toys” claim to “fly up to
» rrf.'i,*. / < 4
in
•
For D ollar T ree locations,
visit wunv.dollarrree.com. Just
Out would like to
Michael and his magic flute
point out that half
(with cleaning rod!)
of our participants
chose the
football/cook key chain, which
clearly indicates the perfect gift.
The BIGGEST GAY LEAGUE
in Portland bow ls at
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Pre-Holiday Cleaning!
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I was drawn to the light saber that both
flashes and makes canned Star Wars-type nois
es. Then, in preparation for my own version of
O-Town, we got a package of beautiful plastic
harmonicas.
Finally, Jessica just had to have The Dollar
Tree mini-semi. Yes, that’s right, her very first
truck! It makes the sound of a semi struggling
to start, then honks cheerily as its lights flash.
Keep on truckin’ and have a safe and noisy
holiday season!
30 feet.” This will be about 29 1/2 feet more
than Stubby’s current personal best.
For my old girlfriend, Roberta, who
occasionally likes to be called “Bob,” I find a
wonderful self-adhesive mustache disguise.
Femme on the streets, hairy in the sheets.
For Nora “The Notcher” I buy a five-pack
of guest toothbrushes. No doubt they’ll be gone
in a week. They’re thoughtfully color-coded,
though, should a guest be invited for a repeat
performance.
I leave The Dollar Tree feeling warm and
fuzzy because I’ve found the perfect gift of
empowerment and sisterhood for all my
women friends. Well, I should’ve bought read
ing glasses instead because now I’m stuck with
54 jars of Tussy Powder. Damn it!
300 LANES!
Sexy Gifts Exciting Ideas
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