Saturday, March 1, 2008

Disjointed Observations During a Dislocated Shopping Trip

I was on a mission - to find me some chokos to plant over a non-existent thunderbox trellis.
As I meandered walked purposely towards the shopping centre I couldn't help but notice the local scrap metal yard that is almost-but-not-quite retired has a large-ish military gun/cannon parked in its yard.
Should I be alert or alarmed?
Should I be concerned it's pointed towards the aged care hostel that loses escaping residents as often as the sun rises?
Should I phone little Johnny and discuss strategies with him?

I hit the shops and no joy was forthcoming.
Yes chokos are in season, no we don't have any.
3 supermarkets, 2 asian grocery stores and 4 green grocers later saw me heading to the last megamonster giant conglomerate supermarket when karma struck.

I swear I wasn't wishing the ground would swallow the mother and daughter bogan duo evil thoughts on the mother of the oh-so-sweetly dressed 8 year old who was ripping open all the salad packs and screaming "F*** you f***ing bi**h I wanna f***ing chips nooooooooooooooow".
With mummsy replying oh-so-delicately through a mouthful of hamburger "Shut ya mouth ya f***ing lil bi**h an' get the f*** outta here".
Alright, I may have let a teeny weeny nasty thought through (oh my sainted aunts! I'll never get to Heaven!) when I slipped on some of the far flung lettuce the bloody brat charming child had tossed.

I swear I could hear the nasally announcement "Spillage in aisle free, spillage in aisle free. Some old bat is on her arse impersonating a turtle; mop, bucket, tow truck and structural engineer to survey damage to aisle free".
I was helped up by many hands and some began having words with the store assistant and the bogan mother who whined she "f***ing couldn't be f***ing held f***ing responsible for what her f***ing daughter did"......evil thoughts ran amok so I'm expecting karma to take a larger bite of my arse in the not-too distant future.

I hobbled out of the store and considered that Chadstone couldn't inflict much more damage on me than I'd already managed, so I ran like a mad hatter caught the next bus and braved the crowds.

After playing dodgems with sleep-deprived new parents piloting deadly weapons prams into anything that moved I battled my way through 4 shops when I finally struck gold.
An overwhelming 8 of them left in the whole of the southern hemisphere 3 suburbs , so I bought 4 of the buggers.

Then I remembered a book review I'd just read on a new release I wanted for my Dad, Henry Hoke's Guide for The Misguided.
Logically I headed towards the XYZ shop who is the actual publisher of said book.
Nope, they didn't have it on their computer and knew nothing about it at all.
So I sensibly headed to another, totally unrelated store who did have it in stock.
This isn't the first time I've found XYZ store doesn't stock its own books but I figured I'd entered the twilight zone by this stage, with my leg and bum cheek that copped the full brunt of my weight beginning to threaten me with sleepless nights for weeks to come scream silently at me and I could feel the hematoma growing so large it will have its own post code.

Great Aunt Hepzibah suggested I take photos of the bruise in all its glory and scare the bejebus out of you all enlarge and frame it then claim it's a long-forgotten myopic Van Gogh from his bruised backside of a blind old bat stormy skies series of paintings.
Great Uncle Rupert tried to pour a bottle of evil smelling home brew that strips paint with its fumes alone brandy down my neck but I somehow managed to perform a triple pike somersault half turn dodge the grog.
The rest of The Tribe merely said "I told you so" because I'd refused to take the white stick that plasters the word 'disabled idiot' across my forehead and makes people yell coz yelling makes vision impaired people see better apparently with me and I could have battered the bogan mother by accident got around the lettuce mess.

I shall rest upon my painful backside laurels and plant the hard-won chokos that had better reward me with a gazillion tonnes of fruit.razz


  1. Hey bruised bum, there is a good reason why you could not find chokos. Coz no one wants them and there is a good reason for that too. So now you will reply with a hundred ways to prepare chokos and make them interesting.

  2. LM(sore)AO
    No I won't inflict choko recipes on you, it's an acquired taste that grows on moss or mould :P
    My mum had a great way of making them taste fantabulous but she didn't write it down and the hotline to Heaven is out of order lol, so I'll wing it ;)

  3. Speaking of feral kids, your own 'beastie' might need to turn off his 'comments moderation', or check 'em behind his blog or something, 'cos they're not currently down.

  4. Ahh ok, ta Brian. I'll have a look now. :)

  5. All fixed! His Feral Beastie-ness will reply when he's finished dinner ;)

  6. F###
    Poor lil f'n boy... haha

    I just wonder what that mother thinks shes teaching her son? Then again can she think at all?
    ONe can only wonder what might become out of a boy brought up like that?
    We need to work more, because dole'rs depend on us.

  7. The delightful child spouting such delightful speech was actually a little girl but yes, what hope does she have with such a wonderful example as her mother?!