Providing you stay away from shopping centres and all of the people. Shopping centres at Christmas are proof that misery and despair are accessible to anybody. The public suck at the best of times, but they reserve a little extra something for the festive season.
I love how we commemorate the birth of a man who pleaded with us to eschew personal possessions by trampling each other half to death in the hopes of snagging the last Teenage Pregnancy Barbie at Target. Seeking salvation - you're doing it wrong, shopping anarchists.
And the person who came up with the phrase the customer is always right has obviously never worked with customers.
Also, I don't understand the desperate need to get the parking spot closest to the door. I imagine some people could do with a little wander from their car to the food court.
Getting the closest park doesn't make you special. And you don't have a parking angel who gets you a good spot near the door, because celestial beings have nothing better to do than hover around your shit mobile and make sure you get a fabulous parking spot.
And how about the shop assistants in David Jones? I believe some of the largest sticks known to man are shoved permanently up their backsides. These people used to be required to think and calculate basic math equations in their head, old school style, but it looks like their sole duties now consist of glaring at you with disdain for daring to approach their counter, interrupting their Facebook status update and waving objects over a scanner until it beeps. Liaising with these people equals slow death. Thank goodness for online shopping.
Ironically, the shops that are the least annoying are the ones where you leave your standards, taste and any measure of class at the door - the $2 shops. This is where you can buy all manner of faux-marble Greek and Roman statuary and cheap whore cosmetics. Fortunately the pretentious gits of the world refuse to ever be seen in these stores.
Oh, and effing baby strollers. These mini humvees are apparently designed to ensure your baby can survive an encounter with a herd of charging wildebeest. While I can understand mothers of small, screaming little people being a tad cranky in the mall, what's everyone else's excuse at this most jolly time of the year?
Even if you aren't forced to liaise with humanity on your shopping trip, they may still get you through the air conditioning system, which kindly regifts the disgusting, contagious pathogens of hundreds of people as a present to you.
Merry Christmas!
