Shopping hatred - with some MASSIVE RACISM thrown in…

Thanks to TheManWithThePlan for (sort of) reminding me of this.

I’ll begin with a statement on shopping.

Ladies, we understand that you are truly wonderful – phenomenal creatures, but…can’t you get it through your heads that – just as you may not truly understand the timeless beauty of a particularly well taken free-kick, that us men sure as shit could not give the very slightest modicum of a fuck regarding whether or not an item of clothing is ‘too frumpy’, or...god forbid…’makes your arse look big’. In short – blokes generally hate ‘girlie’ shopping. Specifically as we tend to have no real sense of taste or style in that department, therefore we don’t see the point. ‘Women are from Venus’ and all that.

My love for the present Mrs Pooflake is quite unprecedented. As far as I am concerned, she is quite the most staggeringly amazing human being to have ever walked the planet…and I’ve been married for over 12 years now. Perhaps to put it another way – she puts up with me – and that in itself is a task worthy of a veritable sainthood and thusly I worship her relentlessly for it.

But she does have an Achilles heel. And that is the fact that she shops…like a goddamn machine.

Believe it or not, I also have two young sons…'flakelets' if you will, and I have managed through the magical medium of DNA to pass on to them via heredity, the realisation that having to accompany girls as they trundle aimlessly around shitty department stores quite boils our collective piss to an alarming degree.

Ooh they so hate it too. Bless ‘em. It’s almost like synchronised swimming - the way we all whinge and whine in unison like the deadweights we are as my poor lady drags us round clothes shop after clothes shop….after fucking clothes shop. You get the point.

However, The present Mrs PF has another weakness…and that is camping…you know – as in tents and wotnot...as opposed to wearing a pink neckerchief and saying things such as 'Oooh! don't touch what you can't afford, treacle'.

I have devoted my life in trying to be suitably affluent so that we don’t have to spend our holidays dragging our own faeces across a field every morning, but she happens to love it – so of course I indulge. Crikey I'm spineless.

Anyhoo - to try and drag this back into something remotely relevant for the QotW, one Saturday morning the missus decided to drop the inevitable yet sorrowful bombshell from hell that I and my flakelets dread:

“We’re going shopping today…”

“Oh sweet cunting fuck-stagger clackervalves” I mutter under my breath, and glance over to the flakelets to see them muttering something probably very similar (but hopefully minus the blatant expletives)

The missus then proceeded to insist that we accompany her on a dismal day of bum-biting drudgery wonderful voyage of discovery around several supermarkets, then just enough clothes shops for us all to lose the will to live.

A few hours in, my youngest son plucked up the courage to pipe up: “Pleeeeeeeease…..mummy…..can we go home now…? Pleeeeease?...”

…

The pause was just long enough to fill all three of us males with a tinge of hope…

…

Mrs PF: “NO!, after this we’re going to the camping shop”

Now, when she said this we were in some posh ladies clothes boutique that was quite busy; and we were surrounded by various people - almost every race, colour and creed was represented by the women who were knuckle-deep into clothes on the rails, and the smattering of poor blokes who were all in the same boat as we were as we collectively rolled our eyes and shared glances of dismay.

At this point I should point out that we had all been to ‘the camping shop’ many times before. It’s a place on the outskirts of Coventry called ‘Blacks’…

You can soooooo see where this is going…

In front of a packed shop on a Saturday afternoon, my youngest son decided to man-the-fuck-up and state a protest at the utter disregard of how his afternoon of playing Minecraft and suchlike had been squandered mercilessly just so he could be dragged around and get asked his frankly redundant opinion as to whether he thought certain handbags ‘looked pretty’.

Unlike his entirely less-brave father...He took a stand. However, in his innocence, he wasn’t quite aware of the implications.

“NOOOOO!......NO MORE!!!” He screamed: “I…HATE...BLACKS!!!!” He yelled at the very top of his little voice, stomping his tiny feet and throwing his very best attempt at a hissy fit.

As I lunged for him he continued: “I HATE BLACKS AND SO DOES DADDY! WE ALL HATE BLACKS!!!!” at this point, with my eyes as wide as dinner plates I tried to smile meekly as I glanced at the massive 6ft 4 black guy nearby who was looking at me with a rather understandable disgust, and who had the physical capability of squishing me into the ground with a mere flick of his little finger.

”Oh…ho ho ho…what a misunderstanding!...*forced laugh*…It’s a shop, everybody….he’s talking about a shop…please believe me…” I whimpered pathetically. I even considered mumbling the tune of ‘Ebony & Ivory’ in a desperate attempt to placate the surrounding crowd…who thankfully were too busy ‘tutting’ and calling me a ‘cunt’ under their breaths to notice as I dragged both flakelets out of the shop and lectured them on why they must never say that again.

Yes, perhaps this is a bit tenous in accordance with the QotW, as I probably wouldn’t have been actually arrested, but on the other hand, I was very nearly torn a new clay-hole by various well-built onlookers - who if it wasn’t for their staggering ability to not be arsed wasting their time on a ball-sack like me, could have possibly reported me as a member of the Coventry branch of the KKK or something, if such a thing exists. God I hope it doesn't.

if you wish to check - www.blacks.co.uk - I can recommend the chunky socks.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 1 Feb 2012, 16:20, 13 replies)

You just keep rolling out wonderful tales.

( The Mock Turtle ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Wed 1 Feb 2012, 16:26, closed)

My life changed the day I had an epiphany regarding women and shopping.
They need each other, like bees and flowers. Get rid of one and the other shall follow.

Understand this and it seems more natural, and by involving ourselves ever so slightly in the process we get to harvest 'shopping honey'- the right to say 'yes darling, but you know I think you look great whatever you wear so I don't know why you keep asking me, Why don't I go to the pub and you can meet me there later and show me what you've bought?'
(FartThroughAWalkieTalkie wished you were dead in ditch on, Wed 1 Feb 2012, 16:38, closed)

See, Mrs V doesn't. She hates shopping.
Online shopping is a boon to her.

What she DOES like, however, is trying stuff on.

Which means that a few times a year she makes stupendous runs to the Post Office to send back huge boxes full of unwanted/makes me look fat/bum look big/etc clothes.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 1 Feb 2012, 17:10, closed)

See, Mrs Mr V doesn't. She hates shopping.


*Coughs*


Gayer
( The Mock Turtle ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Wed 1 Feb 2012, 20:10, closed)

It's a strange phenomenon...
That my G/F claims to dislike shopping. However, if we have to actually GO shopping it is fucking inconceivable to leave the shopping area before 5pm - even if we arrived at 10am. It's as if she's either terrified of missing something or she's maximising the time there so as to not need to bother again for some weeks*

*If only this were the case - she'd do this shopathon every week if she could. Funny thing is, she rarely actually buys anything and, when she does, it almost invariably goes back.
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Wed 1 Feb 2012, 17:23, closed)

Mrs Quackblast will tour shops endlessly and always goes back to buy one of the first things she saw.
Her arguement is that the hours were well spent as she was checking the prices of similar garments elsewhere, and in doing so has saved herself up to ten whole pounds.

My arguement is that I would happily pay her ten pounds to have those five hours of my life back.
(FartThroughAWalkieTalkie wished you were dead in ditch on, Wed 1 Feb 2012, 18:18, closed)

maybe you could grow a set of balls and not be dragged round the shops like an emasculated caddy?

( janet aylia y'all motherfuckers need jesus, Thu 2 Feb 2012, 7:09, closed)

"Does this dress make me look fat?"
"No, it's the massive overeating and total lack of excercise that makes you look fat."
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Wed 1 Feb 2012, 17:28, closed)

My wife has asked to be buried in her wedding dress
we'll just have to hope she dies of a wasting disease ;o
(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Wed 1 Feb 2012, 18:03, closed)

What the heck is 'clackervalves'
even google search has nothing on this!!!
( discobunnywalker, Wed 1 Feb 2012, 18:04, closed)

Yeah,
post a grainy gif or we don't believe this.
( Infidel , shit and wrong, Wed 1 Feb 2012, 19:21, closed)

They're the things
that hold the farting springs in place.
(username failed moderation, Thu 2 Feb 2012, 9:16, closed)

Hahahahahahaaa!...

I'm so going to use 'Farting Springs' in future. That has just made my crap day a little bit more manageable.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 2 Feb 2012, 9:25, closed)

Excellent tale, it had me making the missus pause her TV so I could tell her it
Coincidentally, I also hate Blacks.

Mind you, I love camping.
(Eukanuba, Wed 1 Feb 2012, 18:43, closed)

A good story...
but “Oh sweet cunting fuck-stagger clackervalves" is worthy of a click on its own.

Therefore...
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Wed 1 Feb 2012, 18:43, closed)

I had a similar experience.
At my local shopping centre there's a dress shop called 'The Christ-Murdering Jews'.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 2 Feb 2012, 6:16, closed)

Mutual admiration society aside. (You're not related to Prof. Kenny are you?)
I find the best solution to "Let's go shopping." is - "Nah, you go. It's fucking boring."
This then gives me a couple of hours to myself to do some work about the house, arse around on message-boards and generally drink myself silly.

The only down side is when the missus and bairn arrive home laden with expensive looking shopping bags the contents of which I've had no buying veto power over what-so-ever.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Thu 2 Feb 2012, 6:21, closed)

If only it was that simple.
I'd get away with the 'no, I'm not coming' thing, but I'd be landed with 2 sprogs to look after.
(username failed moderation, Thu 2 Feb 2012, 9:20, closed)

^^^This^^^...

That is my usual alternative too. I choose it quite often though.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 2 Feb 2012, 9:27, closed)

I'm with PF here
I too raise my daughter with the TV. ;)
& I don't mind that at all. Library visits are the best.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Thu 2 Feb 2012, 10:23, closed)

objection!
I fucking hate shopping.
( janet aylia y'all motherfuckers need jesus, Thu 2 Feb 2012, 7:08, closed)

Unusual for
you to not like something Janet.

You do surprise me.
(username failed moderation, Thu 2 Feb 2012, 9:20, closed)

The sarcasm is strong in this one.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 2 Feb 2012, 10:58, closed)

Proof positive
that being dragged round the shops all day will make even the most patient of men sound the barbaric yawp of their frustration over the roofs of the shopping centre.

Have yerself a click.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Thu 2 Feb 2012, 8:45, closed)