Monday, July 03, 2006
Joseph and the Blue Trench Coat
Yet another entry in the continuing A----- saga. So I just discovered from my mum that A----- wants to be a scuba diver who repairs ship hulls. How did she know that? And more importantly... why is this information making me swoon?
Today I walked by the concierge desk four times.
Once on the way out to go shopping. I didn't buy that horrible, overpriced coat. Because it's ugly and it's smelly and it's yucky-yucky-hate-it-hate-it-hate-it. Ok, fine, the real sour-grape-juice-free reason: my size is out of stock and it's a discontinued line... so... yeah. The sales person had to brew me a hot chamomile tea and fan me and bring me a box of tissues because I was crying so badly. Three assistants had to group around me and hold me until I stopped shaking. "There, there," the first sales person said gently, "There, there." Then when I had regained my composure, she held my hand and whispered in my ear, "Promise me you'll survive. That you won't give up on your dream sartorial item, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless and expensive. Promise me now,Rose, and never let go of that promise. Try looking in J*st Jeans, they have a nice blue trench coat over there. Plus it's half the price, and just as nice."
So I did, and am now a proud owner of a nice spanking new blue waist-length trench coat that I shouldn't have bought because I know I'll be too afraid to wear it out in case someone else is wearing it too. Go, me!
I then popped into Sp-rtsg-rl to buy those lace tights that Leanne and I were laughing at last week because they were so hookerish.
Me (pointing to tights): Haha. Ew! That's something a hooker will wear.
Leanne: Errrgggh. That's... quite ugly.
Me: BWAHHAHAHA yeah, I know right, I mean, like, they're so ugly and gross right? Har har har har har har. and like, yuck, right? *makes mental note to come back and buy them another day*
Unfortunately, they were out of stock.
After my second cup of hot chamomile tea, I lifted my head up with renewed resolve and trained to C*mb*rw*ll Sp*rtsg*rl... only to discover that they were out too.
Hence my third cup of chamomile tea. And also a dawning realisation that the hooker look must be in.
Ok, back to the point of the story, which is supposed to be an A----- centric entry but has become a sad reflection of my shopper's bad luck.
The second time I passed A---- was when I came back from M*lb**rn* C*ntr*l. The concierge counter was busy with people demanding DVDs and what-nots.No chance to flirt.
I decided to make up some excuse to walk past the counter again, so I pretended I needed to buy the newspaper from CE Mart, giving me two more precious opportunities to walk past the concierge counter.
$1.40 for 5 seconds of A-----. Is it worth it? I'll leave you to contemplate that while I go down to get another copy of the papers. And another. And another...
Edited to add: Place names have their vowels substituted by an asterisk because I do not want them to pop up in google or some other search engine. I have become extremely gun-shy because of that whole incident with my other blog.
Today I walked by the concierge desk four times.
Once on the way out to go shopping. I didn't buy that horrible, overpriced coat. Because it's ugly and it's smelly and it's yucky-yucky-hate-it-hate-it-hate-it. Ok, fine, the real sour-grape-juice-free reason: my size is out of stock and it's a discontinued line... so... yeah. The sales person had to brew me a hot chamomile tea and fan me and bring me a box of tissues because I was crying so badly. Three assistants had to group around me and hold me until I stopped shaking. "There, there," the first sales person said gently, "There, there." Then when I had regained my composure, she held my hand and whispered in my ear, "Promise me you'll survive. That you won't give up on your dream sartorial item, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless and expensive. Promise me now,
So I did, and am now a proud owner of a nice spanking new blue waist-length trench coat that I shouldn't have bought because I know I'll be too afraid to wear it out in case someone else is wearing it too. Go, me!
I then popped into Sp-rtsg-rl to buy those lace tights that Leanne and I were laughing at last week because they were so hookerish.
Me (pointing to tights): Haha. Ew! That's something a hooker will wear.
Leanne: Errrgggh. That's... quite ugly.
Me: BWAHHAHAHA yeah, I know right, I mean, like, they're so ugly and gross right? Har har har har har har. and like, yuck, right? *makes mental note to come back and buy them another day*
Unfortunately, they were out of stock.
After my second cup of hot chamomile tea, I lifted my head up with renewed resolve and trained to C*mb*rw*ll Sp*rtsg*rl... only to discover that they were out too.
Hence my third cup of chamomile tea. And also a dawning realisation that the hooker look must be in.
Ok, back to the point of the story, which is supposed to be an A----- centric entry but has become a sad reflection of my shopper's bad luck.
The second time I passed A---- was when I came back from M*lb**rn* C*ntr*l. The concierge counter was busy with people demanding DVDs and what-nots.
I decided to make up some excuse to walk past the counter again, so I pretended I needed to buy the newspaper from CE Mart, giving me two more precious opportunities to walk past the concierge counter.
$1.40 for 5 seconds of A-----. Is it worth it? I'll leave you to contemplate that while I go down to get another copy of the papers. And another. And another...
Edited to add: Place names have their vowels substituted by an asterisk because I do not want them to pop up in google or some other search engine. I have become extremely gun-shy because of that whole incident with my other blog.
# posted by me lah @ 4:38 pm 
