At the risk of sounding like Joost van der Westhuizen on coke: thank fuck it’s Friday.I’m going to a femur party hosted by a dog called Sandton, I’m also going up to the Westcliff for a birthday sundowner, and after the vom episode at 3:00am yesterday, frankly, I could do with some chill time.
Oh, and I’m also on the hunt for a vacuum cleaner. There are few things I find emphatically more shite than shopping at a Dion’s or the likes on a Saturday morning.
Seen the movie and would do anything to get out of actually playing it out. But this fluffy rug of mine needs to be…aired out. At the very very least.
Things I find worse than Mega-Valu-House-Warehouse shopping are:
1) Extreme frostbite where your nose goes black and falls off
2) The guy standing on the corner of Bryanston & Main who has a temper tantrum every time I don’t have rubbish to put in his bag/give him R5. He literally swears at me and stomps off. I’m coming close to losing it and telling him just where to put his bag, and in a colourful manner.
Anyhey.
I’m going to make it through this damnation across the hot coals of hell that is shopping at a discount warehouse on a weekend, simply by purchasing the most incredible vacuum guy money can buy.
Monica has orgasms over cleaning gadgets; frankly, so do I.
I’m gonna walk into Game/Makro/Bend-Me-Over-An-Appliance-Stand-Discount-Warehouse, file neatly through families with their over-active spawn, grab a shop assistant who deals solely in Hoovers and tell him to get his
Sweet talk me and sell me the most efficient, dust sucking, unforgivable, wet-and-dry, laser-generated to annihilate terra-nano sized stray particles, motherfarker of a machine.
Because I’ll probably be hungover and even less tolerant of slow people jamming up the aisles with trolleys full of fucking pool noodles.
I’ll need dark shades, 3 painkillers and need to walk out with one hell of a vacuum cleaner.
If, when I’m dashing to the till queue – because there’s always a queue – fuck domestic shopping on a weekend, seriously – is my anxious tone coming across here? I mean, Pick ‘n Pay isn’t something I’ve done since living with another person – but maybe if it’s in sight and direct arms-length proximity, I’ll grab a new bath mat.
Whatever.
I’m just saying – there’s shopping for brand new Fuck Me heels, while stopping for a coffee and people watching from a safe enclave, or reading a book at Exclusive’s, and then there’s The Hi-Fi Corporation in Chatsworth during a month-end sale.
Last weekend I did the former. This weekend, I’m doing the latter, because a vacuum cleaner is always an exciting purchase when you’re going for a big brand, like, Bosch.
Or something.
