So,
I went to the bank for work the other day.
This
is a rare event, because my boss usually does it whilst he’s zipping around
between projects. However, sometimes I
get to go out and play.
I
enjoy going to the bank, because it means going to Sunshine Plaza, and fuck me;
that’s an experience in itself.
These
are the things I saw whilst walking through Sunshine Plaza (for the entire 7
minutes and 45 seconds I was there. Yes;
I timed it.).
·
A
dude in black and green check oversized shorts, black t-shirt and
multi-coloured hair, with more piercings and tatts than Tattoo You Magazine,
ordering a cream éclair from Donut King. Wtf?
·
Lots
of fat chicks in clothes that were simply too tight
·
Lots
of skinny chicks in clothes that were simply too revealing
·
Lots
of men in clothes they shouldn’t be wearing at all, because clearly; they’d
dressed themselves this morning
·
Lots
of different nationalities dressed for winter (it’s 27 degrees out)
·
Fat
Caucasians in fluro (and not the safety wear type fluro either)
·
Every
second chick, not dressed for winter, in scraggly, fluro off the shoulder tops
that looked like they needed a good wash an iron. Clearly, they were on special somewhere in
the centre
·
People
queued up at the junk food shops in the food court, but no one at the sandwich
place
·
Absolutely
no one else in the bank… they must be at Centrelink…
·
Quite
a few junk stores that had Hello Kitty stuff in the windows or on display
tables out the front. Must have known I
was coming… lucky there were no handbags.
I needs me a new ‘steppin-out’ Hello Kitty hand bag…
·
People
everywhere were staring at me. So much
so that I touched the front of my jeans to insure that flossy wasn’t flashing,
and checked my top to ensure that the girls weren’t on display. After a while, I figured it’s because I
looked clean, wore nice clothing and deodorant
·
A
dude walking around in a sheepskin hat.
Again, 27 degrees…
·
A
girl pushing a pram with one being dragged along beside her, and one on the
way. She looked sixteen…
·
Lots
of goths with blue hair… must have been a special on that colour or something…
·
I
bought some donuts for the boys at the office (and myself, of course), and when
I produced a $50 note, not only did the chick behind the counter pause, but a
hush fell over the entire shopping centre…
On
the way back to the car (which was parked fairly close because no one in
Sunshine can afford to go shopping), an old tart pushing a trolley stopped me
and declared ‘I like ya yella bolero jackit!’
I was so stunned that this filthy, smelly, trackie clad socialite with
teeth the Collingwood Football Club would be proud of, knew what a bolero
was. ‘Where’d ya geddit?’
I
think she asked where I got it from, so I politely replied ‘City Chic.’
‘Weeez
that?’ she barfed.
‘Werribee
love. It’s in Werribee.’
‘Oh….
s’long way to Wezzabee. Might save me
money and go next pension day on tha bus.’
‘You
do that love. I can see you in one of
these little numbers.’
‘Yeaheah!’
she agreed, and off she went to fuck knows where, pushing her trolley of
groceries along.
As
I watched her go, I had visions of her sitting up the front of the bus, handbag
tucked tightly under her arm, clad in her best trackie, steppin-out slippers,
and Tweed Ode Parfum.
Fuck
me. 7 minutes and 45 seconds
people.
That
was enough.
Peace
out.
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