Deck the Malls with my bitching … fa la la la la

Despite the fact that I’m broke, I decided to go Xmas shopping today. Figured I’d float some checks, if need be, but let me tell you how EASY it is to not spend money during this season. How, you ask, when bargains are plentiful and the ultimate deadline approacheth? Well, it’s simple, really.

There’s something about this season that makes me NOT want to spend money, at least, not in the stores. But just to get myself out of the house, I got up early today and hit Springfield Mall, where I spent several hours and only ended up with wrapping paper (how helpful, as I have, um, ZERO gifts to wrap!) and dishwashing liquid. Because it’s a nice thing when dishes are soaked and cleaned and put away for another use.

But I got off subject. In the stores, let me put it this way, even when I saw the perfect items, they were either too expensive or too heavy to drag across Creation. Or, supposing I saw something fairly well priced that wouldn’t snap my spine in half, well, try finding an available sales associate. Argh. That, and customers are just assholes. Mom said it best, that who the fuck wants to be out during this ridiculously festive season when everyone is ridiculously more grumpy and inconsiderate than usual? And down here, a new annoyance I have learned is hearing everyone’s voices, speaking different languages. Not usually a problem for me, but some of these people have very high, sharp accents. and when one has a toothache (as I did), those voices are just even more grating than normal. And, I’m sorry, but why the hell do some people who DO speak English think it’s OK to omit VERBS from their sentences?!?! Gaaah. :::breaks into song::: “Ain’t that America, for you and me. Ain’t that America, something to see, baby. …” (a John Mellencamp moment. …)

And, one last bitch to pitch (in writing — just wait till I pick up a phone and really let everything out, no holds barred) — can people just leave their little monsters AT HOME?!?! Good grief, I felt like I was in Munchkinland, but no clicking these heels together could get me home fast enough (as I then went to Landmark Mall to waste even more time). The little bastards drop toys in the aisles or break things or rip shit out of their parents’ hands or wander off, on a mission to trip innocent shoppers with their toys and their bodies. I had this one little lunatic in the ladies’ room, dipping her long dark curls under the faucet where I attempted to wash my hands. She thought she was adorable. I just wanted to shove her whole head under the faucet.

This leads me back to a MUCH earlier rant, one in which I decided I should donate my eggs and/or give up babies for adoption to loving gay couples or whatever. After eight hours, two purchases, two malls and six thousand children later, I am through with the thought that babies are cute. They’re not. They are evil little minions of Satan, the hellspawn of the public assistance program, the reason I want to buy stock in the manufacturers of contraceptives.

I’m also sick of people who are happily shopping with their partners, molesting each other unmercifully as they wait in the agonizingly long lines at cashiers’ desks. Argh. These guys are carrying the heavy packages that we delicate flowers simply cannot lift; they look good, lounging against racks of goods while the women flutter about, selecting the gifts; and they help their women play tongue twister while they wait for a cashier to figure out how to work his or her register.

I hate couples. And homely kids. I couldn’t deal with having a homely child. They don’t even realize how homely they are, as they smile and try to play with you. They don’t realize that they look like Killjoy the Clown or Bling-Bling the Crack Expert. Their parents tell them they are adorable because, well, they look just like them. 🙂

At any rate, even though I don’t feel like I looked my best today, I noticed many a married man-with-child checking me out. I realized that it’s not necessarily that men have roving eyes, but they just want someone, anyone to find them attractive, when they are pushing a toddler in a stroller with one hand and carrying a carseat with another munchkin in it in the other hand. Their wives/girlfriends can be stunning or dumpy, but they still look around. And I have a hard time meeting their eyes, for the simple fact that they are married and well, I can’t have them anyway, no matter how hot they might be.

One saving grace to the whole shopping ordeal is that, now that I am hundreds of miles from my home, I don’t run into people I know. In Pgh, I couldn’t smoke on a streetcorner without recognizing five or 10 faces. And in the malls, I was always ducking, trying to avoid the people from school whom I saw with their jelly-faced, lice-haired, homely little rugrats. Small talk is not my forte, and likewise, it’s very hard for me to walk away without at least grabbing a phone number, even though I never intend to call it. I don’t even call the people whom I like — why would I want to supposedly “continue” a friendship that, let’s face it, never really existed or wasn’t all that good enough to prolong in the first place?

Ugh. Maddie just took a steaming poop. Gotta go spray some disinfectant, light some candles and incense, and try to not breathe through my nose for awhile!

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