For once in many a long moon I am prepared for Christmas early. Not only early, extremely early. In fact I had the bulk of the present buying complete by the third of December, no mean feat.
God bless the Interwebs I say and the very wise man who invented it. Aside from two very small gifts to pick up, which I can get at any time without any real hassle, I am done and dusted.
Done and dusted and with everything fully wrapped as well.
That's right, I am breaking from the traditional male stereotype here. I have completed the biggest shopping task of the year in a reasonable fashion.
Without killing anybody either.
For that I reckon I should get a medal.
Man alive I hate shopping at the best of times. Strolling through shops aimlessly to find something to buy is a very strange sort of torture for me. I generally shop with 'a plan'. I get it, find the store, make the purchase, get home. Usually my arrival and destination points are based on the order of purchases as well. If a shop happens to be right around the corner from one of the dart stations it is onto a winner right there.
But at Christmas I hate how the general herd of people seem to loose all manners, all behaviours and semblance of niceness. They will just stop in the middle of the street for no reason, so suddenly you can't stop in time yourself. You apology for bumping into them is usually met with "So you fucking should be!"
So I fucking should be? You should be lucky I didn't rip your damn head of.
As most folks know I don't tolerate people. So a herd of morons with bad manners ain't going to get much sympathy from me.
Like the woman who decided to stop at the top of an escalator and take out her phone to text somebody. Literally stopped right at the top of a moving platform that is going to spit more people out in a minute.
She got told to move her ass in a none too friendly manner. Did I care about the dirty looks I got? You bet I didn't.
Or the woman who physically pushed me out of her way yesterday so she could carry on walking through the store. If it hadn't been that I assumed the person manhandling me was the lady friend I think I would have snapped that bitches arm off.
I think next year I might do any shopping in the city wearing a placard that reads "Get out of my way or prepare to meet your maker. Happy Holidays."
After all, you can't be a total Bah Humbug