Shopping my arse
Grandad January 14th, 2011
What the fuck is the attraction of shopping?
To me, shopping is a simple process. You gain cash by some means or other and you keep that cash. When you want or need something, you go down to the shop and exchange your hard won cash for the goods. Simple.
If I feel the need for a pint, I go into the pub, order it, pay my cash and drink it. Pretty straightforward? But now ask yourself what the pleasurable part of that transaction is. Is it the drinking of the pint or is it the paying of the cash? I would have thought that the answer is pretty obvious. After all, no one is going to enter a pub simply for the pleasure of parting with cash?
Women, on the other hand seem to enjoy the spending process. They even coined a hideous phrase for it – “retail therapy”. They will happily go shopping, not to purchase their needs but to buy fripparies and trinkets that are just going to clutter the place up. It is the spending that seems to count and not the end result. That is fucking weird.
What amuses me is that the gubmint skims around a quarter of their salaries in tax, and they bitch loudly about it. They then go and throw away a goodly chunk of whatever is left!
I had to go up to Dublin today. What’s worse, I had to go to Dundrum Shopping Centre. Of all the shopping experiences I have to endure, this one is the pits. It is a fucking huge place that is crowded and noisy. It is the stuff of nightmares. My ideal is to be strolling though the heather with a fresh breeze in my face, so having to endure the noise and the bustle of that horrendous enclosure is sheer torture. Yet women actually make a point of going there for no other reason that to wander around in the crowds and spend money on rubbish they don’t need.
Women baffle me.
Subscribe to audio
