Thursday, 1 December 2011

Christmas shopping.

Get this vibrator out of my bum!
I went Christmas shopping with husband last weekend. We said, fuck it, we're gonna get it all done in one day! So we set out on a mission on Saturday morning. The bus was leaving at quarter to nine so we'd leave the house at 9.40, loads of time we thought, as the stop is very close. So just about to walk out the door when he realises he can't find the key. Run around house, look for key, get angry with each other, lots of grumbling and mumbling from me, finally find key and leave. We're rushing up the road now, I'm giving him daggers behind his back and cursing him from a height until I realise I forgot my photograph CD. I wanted to get some photos printed as a present for husband's Mam. So had to run back for that, while he grumbled and mumbled, fucked me from a height and threw me a few dirty looks. So, finally we have everything and we're walking up the street. Husband says:" I bet the bus comes along right now and we miss it." And what happens, bus comes along right then. But I'm not missing anything, I leg it and turn to husband and tell him to leg it. The two of us dash for the bus, knowing there is not a hope we are going to make it. Fortunately the bus driver spots us and kind soul that he is, pulls over and lets us on even though we're miles away from the stop. We jump onto the bus and thank the driver, husband takes a seat and I get my wallet out to pay for bus. But I don't have enough money. I'm thinking to myself: "I can either tell him I don't have enough and risk getting thrown off the bus, or I can pop the gallons of five cent coins in the drop and hope he doesn't notice. I do the latter. And get away with it. Yes!

It's actually made from her breast milk, caught in a bowler hat.
So into town we go. I love town at Christmas time. The lights, the decorations, the music; it really gets you in the spirit of things. Until you start shopping, then you just want to kill someone, usually whoever is with you being a fussy, picky, annoying, little fecker. He tries on a pair of jeans, then another one, then wants a bigger size, then a different colour. Thinks they're too short but the others are too long, they're the wrong shade of dusty blue, those ones are too flared... AHHHHHH! So he finally decides which ones he wants and buys them. Then we go to buy a gift for my Mam. Husband wants to get her perfume. I suggest Elizabeth Arden, Sunflowers. Husband shakes his head. "No, I want to get good perfume", he says. He wants Chanel. "What's wrong with Elizabeth Arden?" I ask. "Well, she didn't have any films made about her did she?" he retorts. I can't argue with that. After a consultation, yes a consultation no less, with the Chanel assistant, husband decides Chanel Mademoiselle is the perfect fragrance for my mother. I'm beginning to fear for his sanity. Also, husband would like it gift wrapped please. Ooh la la! Get him and his high falootin' ideas. The assistant wraps the perfume in shiny, white, wrapping paper and ties it with black Chanel ribbon. She sprays some tissue paper with the scent and wraps the already wrapped perfume in the tissue paper. It is then gently, lovingly placed into a glossy Chanel tote. Husband nods approvingly at the assistant's efforts. I snort. Tis far from Chanel totes he was raised. As we walk out the shop doors I ask Husband where is his other shopping? The two bags he was carrying before we ended up poncing about the perfume counters. His face drops. He left it downstairs when he was trying on jeans. I shake my head and frown. Tut tut. He runs off down the escalator. I walk over and look down at him and laugh. Watching him weave through the crowds of people, trying to get to the changing rooms. He finds the bag and runs back up to me, face red from his escapade. "You're some ejit. What are ya like?" We both laugh. It's time for lunch I reckon.



    You could have saved €58 and got your mil a bottle of this....its actually nice to!! (I got my hands on a bottle yesterday!!!)

  2. Not my Mother in Law - it's my Mother! And sure he wanted Chanel; let him have it!