kozaru

Dear Joss Whedon (all sorts), Russell T. Davies (Dr. Who) and Kathy Reichs (Bones),

Fuck you.

There, I said it. You people are so damned infuriating with your plot twists and your secret things and time compression. Oh yes, I know about that. Where you make it seem like just 5 minutes into the show, it’s finished on a cliffhanger, but it’s apparently been 45 minutes of “WTF!?!?”

Joss. Where do I start? You should be convicted for the murder of Hoban Washburn for a start, you big foreheaded prick. I… I just can’t even talk to you. Just go.

And you Russell T. Davies. What the hell is up with that penultimate cliffhanger shit you pulled this week? You better tie all that shit up by the end of next week you prick, because if you make me wait till 2010 I will fucking walk to Cardiff and snot you one.

Kathy. I know not many of my reader would watch “Bones”, so I’ll keep it vague. I understand there was a writer’s strike. I know that. But really. Why did you pick him? Oh, and as for the twist in the penultimate episode of season 3… You bitch.

In summary, I’d like to reiterate: Fuck You.

Sincerely,

Me.

While walking through a shopping centre I noticed this store, set up in a pretty much vacant space that other shops use for clearance centres.

Seems simple enough. But a close look at that sign reveals the truth…

(You may need to click to enlarge to read it.)

At least they’re honest.

The shop seems to full of stuff like Fukari rugs, large wooden Buddahs, assorted glass jewelery and the like.

It’s like the stuff Villa and Hut didn’t want. And iven the crap Villa And Hut sell, you can just tell that the crap in Funky Stuff and DVD’s (Sorry No DVD’s) is going to be crappier crap than that crap.

And yes, I know I used a “apostrophe of impending S” back there, I was replicating the name of shop accurately.

OK, so I went shopping through the week, for items, not food or anything. I often wonder why, when I try so damn hard to put forward this air of “Please don’t talk to me, just give me my stuff”, shop assistants alway try to talk to me instead of just giving me my stuff.
Here’s some examples. In the following transcriptions, SA is the shop assistant, ME is, well, me.

Item 1: Weekend fish food blocks for my fish for the weekend. I bought these from the supermarket, cos that’s where I know they sell them.
SA: Oh, are these actually food?
ME: Uh, yeah.
SA: I thought they just fizzed and cleaned the water.
ME: Well, these do both.
SA: I’d hate to be a fish.
ME: …
Just give me my stuff.

Item 2: LEGO Indiana Jones
SA: Have you seen the new movie?
ME: Yes.
SA: Is it good?
ME: No.
SA: Really?
ME: Yes.
SA: Why?
ME: He’s too old.
Just give me my stuff.

Item 3: Bracelet for my wife’s birthday
SA: Is this a gift?
ME: … yes.
Just give me my stuff.

An honourable mention goes to every SA in Harvey Norman on the weekend, one of whom actually interrupted a conversation I was having with my wife where I was explaining how a router works to ask me if I needed help. “No, I don’t need your help.”
Special honourable mention goes to my wife who, while looking at drawing tablets, was asked if help was needed, wondered if it worked with Linux. The 16YO SA then looked at the back of the box of EVERY model to find that word.

I’m sure there are intelligent, helpful SAs out there. I just haven’t met one yet.