A negative ode to Suburban shopping Centres on Thursday nights
May 15th 2008 05:32
Another day, another 25 cents.
Working on Thursday night in Shopping Centre suburbia isn't the classiest, or most challenging position, I could have dreamt to find myself, at this age. Serving ungrateful, rude and snobbish people wasn't on my list either, but luckily, they're an added bonus that always seem to occur each and every week.
The woman that thinks she's paying to much, and itemises each item on the bill, before making snorting noises and humfing sounds. Well, before you stuffed your face, maybe you should have looked at the prices, and, if they were out of your league, headed down to the food court instead. Macca's still have happy meals, you know; food toy all for the same wonderful $3.25!!!
The snotty women that come in, treat us like crap, and then head off after paying claiming they are on their way to church. Didn't God treat thou to seek fortitude and the whole spiel about treating others like thoust wants to be treated? You full of yourself bitch, with your peroxided hair, gold-plated jewellery hung over you like an Irish gypsy, and a pursed mouth full of insults. Your face is going wrinkly prematurely, your husband is probably cheating on you with your local choirboy, and there is no need to throw meals back in our faces - we don't make them, we just provide them to your table, if you have a problem - go scream it to Bobo, the enormous Greek wielding the carving knife.
Oh, spite you, spite you to limbo.
To the clans of Emos that constantly clutter every fucking walkway you try to get through, then hurl abuse at you when you accidently, momentarily infiltrate their little circle: what the hell are you doing, casting spells so you'll all become attractive? Won't happen! Searching for your happiness in that Jay Jay's clothesrack? It ain't there honey, now go get some baby wipes, take off that revolting combination of clumped black makeup and white powder off your faces, TAKE OFF THAT FUCKING RIPPED TUTU, and go back home, where your parents can beat some sense into you. None of this, "oh, they're just trying to express themselves!" HAVE YOU PEOPLE NOT HEARD OF COLOMBINE?!? Too much liberty = boredom = purchasing a handgun on Ebay and taking out their prepubescent anger on those around them, who have done nothing but smirked at their ridiculous Pokemon-ness. Please, kiddies, don't cry, life is bad, but not bad enough to wear skinny jeans when you're a man. Unless you're gay. Then, you'd probably look cuter in them than me.
To the carparking lot, where a sea of red and green P-Platers lurk, revving their engines, doofing their subs, and cuttng little old ladies off at the pedestrian crossing. One day you'll learn that being obnoxious, loud and aggressive isn't the way to go. You obviously don't watch the news enough, and have seen the hundreds of thousands of wasted lives due to showing off to your gaggling buddies and over-perfumed 15-year old school girlfriends. This isn't a joke - it's starting to become surivival of the fittest. LEARN SOME FUCKING MANNERS, don't pretend to run others over or take elderly people's car parking spots, or else some day, somewhere down the line, God's going to reach down and bitch-slap you upside the head, and hopefully mess up your sea-salt spiked 'do in the process.
ARGHARGRHGRGRHGRGARHARGARGHRG ARGH. What happened to the good old days, when there were only 10 shops, and little kids had to stay home and study? And people who belonged to church, WENT to church? And complaints were treated with security escort?
"Those were the days, my friend..."
Working on Thursday night in Shopping Centre suburbia isn't the classiest, or most challenging position, I could have dreamt to find myself, at this age. Serving ungrateful, rude and snobbish people wasn't on my list either, but luckily, they're an added bonus that always seem to occur each and every week.
The woman that thinks she's paying to much, and itemises each item on the bill, before making snorting noises and humfing sounds. Well, before you stuffed your face, maybe you should have looked at the prices, and, if they were out of your league, headed down to the food court instead. Macca's still have happy meals, you know; food toy all for the same wonderful $3.25!!!
Oh, spite you, spite you to limbo.
To the clans of Emos that constantly clutter every fucking walkway you try to get through, then hurl abuse at you when you accidently, momentarily infiltrate their little circle: what the hell are you doing, casting spells so you'll all become attractive? Won't happen! Searching for your happiness in that Jay Jay's clothesrack? It ain't there honey, now go get some baby wipes, take off that revolting combination of clumped black makeup and white powder off your faces, TAKE OFF THAT FUCKING RIPPED TUTU, and go back home, where your parents can beat some sense into you. None of this, "oh, they're just trying to express themselves!" HAVE YOU PEOPLE NOT HEARD OF COLOMBINE?!? Too much liberty = boredom = purchasing a handgun on Ebay and taking out their prepubescent anger on those around them, who have done nothing but smirked at their ridiculous Pokemon-ness. Please, kiddies, don't cry, life is bad, but not bad enough to wear skinny jeans when you're a man. Unless you're gay. Then, you'd probably look cuter in them than me.
ARGHARGRHGRGRHGRGARHARGARGHRG ARGH. What happened to the good old days, when there were only 10 shops, and little kids had to stay home and study? And people who belonged to church, WENT to church? And complaints were treated with security escort?
"Those were the days, my friend..."
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