I like shopping. I’m pretty good at it. I mean proper shopping, actually going to a shop with something in mind and buying it. It’s exciting. Until the credit card statement arrives.
The best shopping is supermarket shopping, cos it’s like having loads of shops in one place. In the olden days, the supermarket only had one aisle of books, magazines and stuff. Now my local Tesco has an entire upstairs (upstairs!) with escalators designed for trolleys and everything. Upstairs is the magical, exciting bit with all HDTVs and big aisles full of videogames that I don’t need, but I’ll buy and they can sit on the shelf until I get sick of looking at them and trade them in for a pound at Game.
Actual shopping is exciting though, from choosing the trolley – if I get a big one, I’ll throw more unnecessary stuff in, a basket might be weighed down by bottles of Coke, and I’ll look silly if my mini-trolley only has four things in it – to navigating as efficiently as possible through the aisles.
Some people, for whatever reason, work their way up and down every aisle, regardless of use: They don’t own a dog, stay outta the petfood aisle, you fool. And there’s no need to leave your trolley in the middle of the bloody aisle while you dig through ever piece of chicken to find one that looks about the right size. Get to one side, or you’re getting your trolley gently barged out of the way. And a bit of beef dropped in the end, to cause an argument when you get to the checkout.
Shopping in the supermarket can be done in 15 minutes. Easily. Straight in, straight round and straight out. Especially when you’re cooking for yourself, there’s no obligation to buy healthy crap, and you can head straight for the pizzas.
Everything you buy can be categorised into two piles; One; stuff that you’ll eat as soon as humanly possible. This includes the impulse bought snacks because you’re hungry, a bag of doughnuts, a chocolate eclair and a multipack of ham. Two; stuff that’ll get thrown in the cupboard or freezer and eaten begrudgingly, eventually, when you’re trying to eke another day out of your food without shopping again. Like the trout that’s been in my freezer for six months, because I haven’t got a fucking clue what to do with it.
The only pitfall, the only problem that I have, is when it comes to the checkout. They always ask “do you need any help with your packing?” and don’t find it amusing when I look at the five items I’ve bought and say “I think I’ll be alright, thanks.” But that’s not true. I won’t be alright. I do need help with my packing, like a little old lady trying to use her crippled, arthritic fingers to load up cat-food, bought lovingly for a cat that she doesn’t realise is dead.
The truth is this: I can’t open the fucking carrier bags. My fingers slip and slide all over them, rubbing the bits of polythene together in a vague attempt to get inside. The shopping is piling up around me, I barely have time to organise it so that the freezer stuff goes together and fridge stuff together. I’m loading the bags as fast as I can, pathetically trying to catch up with the cashier’s super-speedy swiping technique. Then it gets to the end, she’s swiped everything through and told me how much it costs. I’m fiddling with my credit card, and still trying to fill the bags. It’s impossible. I give up, and throw everything into the basket and take that home with me, sobbing into the evening. FUCK YOU, TESCO. OKAY?

Agree – supermarket shopping can be done in 15mins! Er…never had problems with plastic bags though…
I thought it was just me! NO ONE can open them. Everyone in the line is rolling their eyes thinking “fucking idiot”, the checkout bitch doesn’t help (how come they can do it? Why do they have the power?) You look like a moron, then throw everything in a bag and break your eggs. What does you have for tea? Broken eggs on squashed toast. HATE THEM. I buy the fancy ones because I can open them. Is that their plan? Bastards.