(diaryland) July 07, 2004 - 10:56 a.m.

There is a freaking cafe near my home where I go in and they call me sir. This is the only shop in which I get called sir. Everywhere else, I get called madam. It's not just one of the people behind the counter who has done this. It has been more than one.

I know that I tend to dress like a gay man (as Roland likes to point out), and that I sound like an aged drag queen, and that I'm uncommonly tall, but HELLO?

I was even wearing lipstick.

At least the lady behind the counter apologised today. But then she did this awful cruel cackle afterwards.

Maybe she still hasn't forgiven me for trying to pay for milk with a fifty-buck note, but that was years ago.