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Urgh. Today was a long day. Many of you probably know I recently had my cats taken away from me. 
This has, to put it mildly, completely and utterly shattered me emotionally. Those cats are like my children. Therefore, I am devoting everything I have to get them back... and today was a day of Errands. All on the Boucher Road in South Belfast. This road is over a mile long. And I have no car.
1. Dunelm Mill - Screw you, you wee fuck
For non Irish/UK, Dunelm Mill is like a home furnishings store. Bedlinen, cooking, storage etc. I went there to get some new bedlinen today because my current stuff, while perfectly clean and serviceable, does have some mild indelible stains from, you know, being several years old and used in a house that frequently plays host to small children. To avoid looking like I sleep in filth, I decided to suck it up and buy more... to Dunelm Mill!
I spent maybe a half hour wandering around looking for stuff (pursued by a very eager salesman - seriously, dude, back off, it's getting creepy) and then went to the checkout. After I paid, the guy asked if I needed help carrying stuff to my car, and I politely said no, I didn't have a car and I was just going to heft it up the road to Pets at Home on foot.
Enter Sucky Child. Who, while a child, was old enough to know better.
SC: Why didn't you bring your car?
Me: ...Because I don't have one.
SC: Why don't you have one? Everyone has one.
Me: Well, I-
SC: *sneer* Are you POOR?
Me: ...
I mean, REALLY? You should have heard the way he said this. It was like he was asking me if I had really just dropped trou and crapped in an old lady's handbag in the bakeware aisle.
Me: Uh...
SC: These people are all poor too. *points at cashier who is ringing up his Gorgon mother, who is of course yapping on her cellphone and tapping her manicured nails on the counter.
(News for you hon, those expensive French tips and that hairdo don't do anything to make up for that face of yours. You can't go putting a wig on a pig and expecting a beauty queen.)
SC: I think poor people are all STOOPID.
Fuck you, child. Fuck you so hard.
SC: Because otherwise, they wouldn't be POOR.
I just turned and left. I was always taught it was wrong to beat on a child, and I was getting SERIOUSLY close to the line.
Pets At Home - Don't get stabbed, kids!
About a half mile up the road is Pets at Home. I had to go there to pick up a Feliway diffuser (look how totally caring I am, I spent £27 I would otherwise have spent on feeding myself to buy a plug in thing that my cats like to hump!) some bug foggers, and a big crate (so my housemate can hide herself and the cats outside.)
The crates, of COURSE, are on the highest shelf
and I am not only barely scraping 5'3", I also have my left arm in a sling. Lucky me, there is a man not five feet away looking at dog toys (yes, my cat is huge and needs a dog size carrier.)
Me: Sir?
Man: *grunt*
Me: Uh, Sir?
Man: WHAT??
Me:
Uh, I was wondering if you could please just help me get this down, I can't reach that high and my arm's in a sling-
Man: *disgust face* I don't WORK here.
Oh really? Because I thought that all associates had to wear three piece suits the 80s threw up in a dumpster after a rough night of Malibu and neon dancewear.
Me: ...Uh, yes, I know, but... it's one box-
Man: SOO? *glances at arm* What did you do to yourself, anyway?
Once again, we have the "Dear God, what have you DONE in this old woman's handbag??!!" tone of voice.
Me: Well, I, uh, I have a stab wound...
Man: You got STABBED??
Me: Uh...
(NB: "I got stabbed" sounds much more dramatic before you find out I accidentally stabbed MYSELF. While cutting carpet. With a breadknife. )
Man: Well, maybe you shouldn't have gone out and gotten yourself stabbed then. *flounces off
Me:
Just, WTF? I mean, I understand if you don't want to help, that's why I asked rather than demanded, but... really??
(In the end, a nice lady with the most gorgeous lab helped me. I pet her dog a LOT. It was only a puppy and didn't have a name... so I suggested Harvey. She liked it so much I didn't have the heart to tell her where I got it from
)
B&Q - Return of the Sucky Child (with extra "do you work here?" bonus gift!)
Next, it was to B&Q, to buy carpet tacks. You know, to tack down that carpet I stabbed myself cutting
I've just got to the nail aisle when there is an impatient, entitled fake cough from behind me. I should have ignored it, but... years of retail have conditioned me
Me: Yes-
Oh great. It's Sucky Child (SC) and his Gorgon Bitch Mother (GBM)
GBM: Ya, do you wooooooork here?
Well, let me check here, lady, I'm wearing a sundress, a T-shirt with a picture of an atom in a tuxedo that says "The name's Bond, Ionic Bond: Taken, Not Shared", and a pair of Perry Platypus plimsolls. My arm is in a sling, and I'm lugging a metric ton of bedlinen along in a dog crate. What do you think?
Me: No, Ma'am, I don't.
GBM: *BIG SIGH* Are you suuuuuure?
Well, if I do then they're definitely shorting me on my paychecks. Also, I may have the second worst attendance record at any job of all time. The worst being my friend Stoner Dan.
Me: Yes Ma'am, quite sure.
GBM: Harrumph! How RUDE! *stomps away
Me:
SC: Mummy, she's POOR!
GBM: I know, sweetie, they all are round here. Come along.
Fuck you, lady. Fuck you so hard. Also, I believe you may have ridden in here on some kind of a horse. Fuck that too.
Thank God I'm home in bed now with a glass of Jameson's.
This has, to put it mildly, completely and utterly shattered me emotionally. Those cats are like my children. Therefore, I am devoting everything I have to get them back... and today was a day of Errands. All on the Boucher Road in South Belfast. This road is over a mile long. And I have no car. 1. Dunelm Mill - Screw you, you wee fuck
For non Irish/UK, Dunelm Mill is like a home furnishings store. Bedlinen, cooking, storage etc. I went there to get some new bedlinen today because my current stuff, while perfectly clean and serviceable, does have some mild indelible stains from, you know, being several years old and used in a house that frequently plays host to small children. To avoid looking like I sleep in filth, I decided to suck it up and buy more... to Dunelm Mill!
I spent maybe a half hour wandering around looking for stuff (pursued by a very eager salesman - seriously, dude, back off, it's getting creepy) and then went to the checkout. After I paid, the guy asked if I needed help carrying stuff to my car, and I politely said no, I didn't have a car and I was just going to heft it up the road to Pets at Home on foot.
Enter Sucky Child. Who, while a child, was old enough to know better.
SC: Why didn't you bring your car?
Me: ...Because I don't have one.
SC: Why don't you have one? Everyone has one.
Me: Well, I-
SC: *sneer* Are you POOR?
Me: ...
I mean, REALLY? You should have heard the way he said this. It was like he was asking me if I had really just dropped trou and crapped in an old lady's handbag in the bakeware aisle.
Me: Uh...
SC: These people are all poor too. *points at cashier who is ringing up his Gorgon mother, who is of course yapping on her cellphone and tapping her manicured nails on the counter.
(News for you hon, those expensive French tips and that hairdo don't do anything to make up for that face of yours. You can't go putting a wig on a pig and expecting a beauty queen.)
SC: I think poor people are all STOOPID.
Fuck you, child. Fuck you so hard.
SC: Because otherwise, they wouldn't be POOR.
I just turned and left. I was always taught it was wrong to beat on a child, and I was getting SERIOUSLY close to the line.
Pets At Home - Don't get stabbed, kids!
About a half mile up the road is Pets at Home. I had to go there to pick up a Feliway diffuser (look how totally caring I am, I spent £27 I would otherwise have spent on feeding myself to buy a plug in thing that my cats like to hump!) some bug foggers, and a big crate (so my housemate can hide herself and the cats outside.)
The crates, of COURSE, are on the highest shelf
and I am not only barely scraping 5'3", I also have my left arm in a sling. Lucky me, there is a man not five feet away looking at dog toys (yes, my cat is huge and needs a dog size carrier.)Me: Sir?
Man: *grunt*
Me: Uh, Sir?
Man: WHAT??
Me:
Uh, I was wondering if you could please just help me get this down, I can't reach that high and my arm's in a sling-Man: *disgust face* I don't WORK here.
Oh really? Because I thought that all associates had to wear three piece suits the 80s threw up in a dumpster after a rough night of Malibu and neon dancewear.
Me: ...Uh, yes, I know, but... it's one box-
Man: SOO? *glances at arm* What did you do to yourself, anyway?
Once again, we have the "Dear God, what have you DONE in this old woman's handbag??!!" tone of voice.
Me: Well, I, uh, I have a stab wound...
Man: You got STABBED??
Me: Uh...
(NB: "I got stabbed" sounds much more dramatic before you find out I accidentally stabbed MYSELF. While cutting carpet. With a breadknife.
)Man: Well, maybe you shouldn't have gone out and gotten yourself stabbed then. *flounces off
Me:
Just, WTF? I mean, I understand if you don't want to help, that's why I asked rather than demanded, but... really??
(In the end, a nice lady with the most gorgeous lab helped me. I pet her dog a LOT. It was only a puppy and didn't have a name... so I suggested Harvey. She liked it so much I didn't have the heart to tell her where I got it from
)B&Q - Return of the Sucky Child (with extra "do you work here?" bonus gift!)
Next, it was to B&Q, to buy carpet tacks. You know, to tack down that carpet I stabbed myself cutting
I've just got to the nail aisle when there is an impatient, entitled fake cough from behind me. I should have ignored it, but... years of retail have conditioned me
Me: Yes-
Oh great. It's Sucky Child (SC) and his Gorgon Bitch Mother (GBM)
GBM: Ya, do you wooooooork here?
Well, let me check here, lady, I'm wearing a sundress, a T-shirt with a picture of an atom in a tuxedo that says "The name's Bond, Ionic Bond: Taken, Not Shared", and a pair of Perry Platypus plimsolls. My arm is in a sling, and I'm lugging a metric ton of bedlinen along in a dog crate. What do you think?
Me: No, Ma'am, I don't.
GBM: *BIG SIGH* Are you suuuuuure?
Well, if I do then they're definitely shorting me on my paychecks. Also, I may have the second worst attendance record at any job of all time. The worst being my friend Stoner Dan.
Me: Yes Ma'am, quite sure.
GBM: Harrumph! How RUDE! *stomps away
Me:
SC: Mummy, she's POOR!
GBM: I know, sweetie, they all are round here. Come along.
Fuck you, lady. Fuck you so hard. Also, I believe you may have ridden in here on some kind of a horse. Fuck that too.
Thank God I'm home in bed now with a glass of Jameson's.
" - Jester, about me 
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