xmas shopping
I hate shopping when other people are there. I hate shopping for stuff I don't need. Combine these two and you end up with that once-a-year ex-travesty-ganza that is the xmas shop. I haven't even attempted it yet (mine's usually done in the week leading up to the shitty holiday) but it's already pissed me right off. All I wanted to do was buy some lunch, nice and simple. So why, oh crispyfuckingbastard why, do the over 60s insist on doing their xmas shop a month early, during the lunchtime rush? Granny Smith, quit blocking the aisle! Old man Kipling, fuck off! You, yes you with the blue rinse, if you even THINK about paying for that DVD player with your yearly penny savings, I swear to HIM, the great noodle monster, that I will choke you with your own flappy arm-skin.
This kind of shit should be illegal. You know those electronic tags they put on large items and clothing, that sets that buzzer off if you walk out of the shop without paying? That should release a massive electrical charge if you pick the item off the rack between midday and 2pm. Better yet, it should flash bright lights and yell "the 'C' word" at whoever put their grubby little mitts on the item.
Also, there should be a fast lane in each aisle, and a checkout purely dedicated to the purchase of lunchstuffs.
And hot topless checkout chicks.
7 comments:
Come up with an idea to get crazy fat super rich and then just call ahead and tell them to close down the store, that Foss is a goin shoppin.
While on vacation in Vegas I saw this first hand. Some boxer was there with his entourage. They would go ahead and clear out a store he wanted to enter.
Then he would be greeted at the door by all the fawning syncophant clerks.
Wonder how much you have to spend to get this sort of service?
Soon be there, Big chap was it? Surrounded by lots of other big chaps? Cleared the store did they? Took all they wanted from the very helpful staff at the store?
That's not fame or riches, that'll have been full on robbery. Foss get together a posse and go a raidin' the gift shops, once you've filled your swag bag with pewter trash you're good to go this christmas!
I think you're exaggerating really.
Old people are annoying, slow and very very boring, I surely agree on that. But Christmas shopping and Christmas in itself is wonderful. I've already started to buy presents, because I really appreciate to give things away and have a nicer, more relaxed time when christmas is closing in for real.
I do, however, totally see your frustration here, with the less rude liguistics I think we are on the exact same planet.
in fact I think we are anyway, which is awesome.
Who shops with mittens on?
Merry Christmas! Hope the lunch was tasty :> (and it was all well-written by the way, I laughed)
Oh, don't get me wrong Tora, I love giving stuff to other people. The look on someone's face when they receive something they've wanted for ages, or the feeling you get when you know someone appreciates what you've done for them, it's one of the best feelings you can have. I LOVE giving stuff to people.
But I hate the buying part of it. I worry about whether I'm selecting a suitable gift. I have trouble picturing the intended recipient's likes and dislikes, and given my social fuck-ups in the past, I'll probably end up buying a pair of left-handed scissors for cousin Timmy who just lost his left-arm in a scissor factory accident.
I love giving, but I suck at buying. :)
Send me all your money, I will buy lots of stuff for you to give to me. And I know what I like and promise to have a very happy look on my face.
Jeff,
No
Tora, you don't appreciate how forgiving Foss and I are of the Older saggier generation. If were were even a tenth less tolerant, we'd have been on a rampage worthy of B-movie flicks such as House of the Dead, House of 1000 Corpses, or Resident Evil.
The old people flock to our shopping estabilishments at lunchtimes like rats did to that queer bloke with tights and a flute.
They stand around, like zombies. They pay for their shopping either with a large collection of pennies, or with a chequebook. Either of which takes a good five to ten minutes. They shuffle aimlessly around the store, but manage to speed up just enough to cut into the aisle just before you, and then they'll spend the next two minutes checking what the ceiling tiles look like.
They plague our public transport, but still manage to infest our roads. They don't look where they're going, and for someone who's lived for around 70 years you would think they would have learned some manners and thanked you after you held the door on them.
In fact, the only thing going for them is the fact that they will be dead soon.
Where Foss and I live is a popular place for people to retire. This means that any shop on a weekend or lunchtime is resembling George Romero's Dawn of The Dead, except with less blood, and more dentures.
If you were constantly hampered by gnomes with knarled hands and excess skin, you'd get annoyed too!
Someone should invent a bomb that disposes of all the lower classes and old people. The world would instantly become far more efficient, and we actually might achieve something as a human race.
The neighbourhood watch scheme would probably suffer, but no less than I do when I have to listen to them moaning about how the youth of today are useless, when all they do is get in your way at lunchtime, and Rot away in front of you.
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