. . . for I am about to risk all of the wonderful Christmas Cheer that I've accumulated (for the first time in years) by braving the Shopping Centre!
Yes, the Shopping Centre will have it all:
First, I will have to brave the Angry Grannies, generally found in the Grocery Store. I seem to attract them somehow, perhaps as I look like a sympathetic ear. One time in the fresh produce section I was accosted by a lady brandishing the snapped stalk of a broccoli at me.
"Somebody snapped this off and took the best part, and now you and I will have to pay for it!"
If she hadn't gone away there and then, I would have offered to pay her personally just to leave me alone.
The same section is notorious for the Crazy Children. They race in front of your trolley, they grab at you from the child seat and poke your groceries while their mother isn't looking, they scream REALLY loudly and make me want to order a tubal ligation and a vasectomy for my husband just to MAKE SURE that none of them actually happen to us. (I am trying to pre-order the Kid Dressed In Black, who sits in the corner with his/her arms folded and swears about the hideous capitalist markets and their hypocritical cheuvanistic ideals. At 5 years old. I will teach him/her to drink decaf and Rant at the Injustice.)
Then there are the Blonde Clones who run in packs, generally in the more expensive clothing stores. ("You too can pay $200 for this dress to look like a skank from the eighties!") They all look the same as each other and look down their noses at anybody who isn't a clone of their bleached-blonde ironed-straight locks and oh-so-original eighties clothing. I don't hate blondes - it looks lovely when done well. But when bleached white (especially with black eyebrows) and accompanied by a dark tan, it looks very very sad. I like to frighten this kind of person by wearing jeans and my "Secret Society of Vegans" t-shirt. Try it some time, it's good fun!
Last, but not least, my other favourite group is the Mo-thers. You all know the type. As I am very tall, they seem to think that they can push in front of me in a queue, by pushing their small child in first, and then following, thinking that I'm so tall that I cannot see anything below five feet in height. When I just keep going and don't step back to let the Mo-ther in, ("Crush the Small Child! I can't see her anyway!") they generally chime in with a VERY LOUD "Excuse me! I was here first!" and acting the part of the Wronged Mo-ther.
Arguing doesn't help with these people, but acting excessively politely often does.
"Oh, I'm so very, very sorry, would you like to go first? I didn't see you there!" If they have been a bitch to you in front of a large group of people, then being very nice to them is even more fun than using a witty retort, as you end up looking like the Good Person. And they often let you go first anyway. Win-win!
So I had better go, otherwise I will have to brave the wrath of my LEAST favourite Shopping Centre character - the Aggressive Car-Park Seeker.
Good luck with your holiday shopping, too!
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