You know when you bite a fingernail off and it goes right down to the root? The minute I bit it I knew I'd made a f#ck up. Now my finger is about twice the size and a bright shiney red colour. This may have contributed slightly to the mood of pessimism which pervaded my clothes shopping in Meadowhall. Actually, come to think of it, I was in a good mood on the way there.
I think the problem is that both me and my flatmate Matt aren't built mentally for the task. My attitude is that I already have clothes which work perfectly well. Why buy more of them? Trousers? I've already got some trousers. Top? Already got one of them too. Why buy more? I only need two or three.
I also find buying clothes a deeply embarrasing experience. I don't know why. Perhaps it's the indignity of trying them on in a harsh glaring light, stood infront of a full length mirror. One top I tried (XXL size) was so tight it made me look like I needed a bra. Not a pleasant experience. Even if it was a private one.
Another thing I don't get is why clothes shops have to play such rubbish Amercian rap music. One shop we walked into had loud speakers which literally blared out the message "this goes out to all my niggaz" when we stepped in. I'd rather not be confronted with racist stereotypes while I'm out trying to buy some new underpants and a jumper. What's the deal with those lyrics? How does "breaking in a hoe" and "f#cking up some honkey" relate to buying clothes? I suppose the fact these clothes were made in sweatshops by oppressive regimes as part of the pyramid system upon which Western Capitalism so smugly sits ties in. I'm not sure if that's what rap music was originally supposed to be about though. I thought it started out as a direct attack on the politics of oppression. But there we are*.
Then we went in some other shop** and bumped into what must be company policy. I'm wandering round and some bloke says "Hello mate, how are you today". Obviously I ignored him. In my mind there are two possibilities; he's mistaken me for someone or he's mad. Just ignore him and walk on. Never know he might be about to ask for money or something. Beggars are very clever these days.
Then once I'd walked a safe distance I took a sneak peak - nope he's the shop assistant. Urgh. How embarrasing. What was he talking at me for? I go find my flatmate. He's looking at stuff when all of a sudden before I can warn him he's approached by a female shop assistant:
"Uh?" comes his reply.
"How are you today?"
"Are you enjoying your shopping?"
"Are you looking for anything in particular today sir?"
"Tops. Looking at tops."
"Well there's some fantastic new items over to that part of the store, and if you're looking at some of the cheaper items we've got a sale on over here"
"Just thought I'd let you know that, if you need me I'll be over here"
Obviously we left after that. I don't like people talking at you when you're shopping. It's clearly some wacky company directive which poor f#ckers like her have to carry out. The people who made the decision will never know how stupid and irritating it is for the shop assistant and for the customer. I hate clothes shops.
And don't even get me started on Meadowhall. How come THE MAJORITY of people look weird, strange and odd? You'd have thought it would be a minority. But no, the vast amjority of them are fu#king mutants.
Matt bought: Some jeans.
I bought: nothing.
However I did look at a home computer, quite nice. Might buy it.
*For the record I think 50 Cent is a c#nt.
** Either Hugo Boss or Cecil Gee, the two are joined together? If you work there I feel sorry for you. That's a ball ache having to make conversation with miserable c#nts like me.