Lyndar the Merciless

a personal beauty + lifestyle blog

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Mondaaaay, Mondaaaay.

Monday, November 07, 2005   |   2 comments

Well well, that was a busy weekend! [I'm in denial about the dawn of a new bloody week, so let's just reminisce about Fri/Sat/Sun, shall we?]

Friday night kind of accidentally turned into a late one: didn't get home from work 'til after 1am thanks to a retirement part-aay which featured much free alcomohol.

Had the first oftwo [count 'em] gym assessments on Saturday - at 9am!!! Pretty sure I was turning a bit green on the treadmill. Saturday's was in order to assess how chronically unfit I am, and then I doubled my pleasure with another on Sunday morning to assess how chronically weak I am. So, as a little thank you to myself for enduring the pain that had been and the pain that was to come, I treated myself to a light spot of boot shopping on Saturday afternoon... so of course I arrived home with:

* one pair of bronze glitter flats;

* one pair of new trainers;

* two cardigans [one grey, one black. I could tell you were just dying to know!];

* and, emmm, no boots.

The no boots thing really gets my goat [well it would do, I'm a Capricorn] because for the first winter in years I have seen not one but two pairs that are trés snazzy and would go with loads of stuff but of course I can't flippin' locate them in my size.

Even more annoying than this was the sheer ignorance [seriously, there's no other word for it] of the vast majority of the staff in the shops I visited. There were two girls on the tills in Champion Sports, but while the queue of customers was out the door, only one of them was actually doing anything! The other was - veeeerrrry sloooooowlly - organising clothes hangers into piles and pretending she didn't notice the hordes of people while chatting to the bird on the other till. [I was half thought that she was a trainee or that the till she was beside was broken, but such fragile hopes were dashed when she had to help her till buddy put through a sale... on her own till. Hmmm.] And when it transpired that the jumper that the young fella in front of me wanted to buy had no labels on it to scan, what did our friends do? Why, they sent him traipsing back down the aisles to get a different one, of course, and then rolled their eyes in tandem when his second offering had the wrong tag on it. So Missy McNot Doing A Tap had to - veeeerrrry sloooooowlly - go and get another.

It was like they were moving in slow motion. Seriously.

And as if the rubbish service there wasn't bad enough [could be put down to it being a sports shop so they get lots of young people who are going to buy the stuff regardless of the crap staff], I then went into a real Mammy shoe shop [Clarks - stop laughing!] where it took another bunch of lazy staff 20 minutes to tell me that they didn't have the boots I wanted in my size!! The only reason I hung around that long was because they were one of the pairs of boots that I had my beady little eyes on and because one of the staff said they'd "get them now" and when I asked again 5 minutes later I was told they were "on the way"!!!! Aaaaaargh!!!!!!!

Of course by then it was half an hour before the shopping centre was due to close so it became fairly obvious which shops had managers in that day and which were being run by part-timers. On the stroke of 6.30pm, about three-quarters of the shutters in the centre came half-way down, the doors were closed over, the music was turned off and the changing rooms were closed. I need hardly say it, but aaaaaargh!!!!!!!

Toddled off to see the new Nicholas Cage movie Lord of War [Himself's choice, I hasten to add], which was as fun as a movie starring a plank of wood could be expected to be. The popcorn was good, though.

Got home and slept through The Ninth Gate.

Did my second round of gym-bunnying for the weekend, so felt very virtuous. Not to mention knackered. Assisted Himself in cleaning the gluastáin, discovered the joys of Limewire, started worrying about Christmas presents, watched Be Cool which was pretty funny and very tongue-in-cheek [such an odd expression; sure where the hell else would your tongue be?? In the normal course of things, I mean...]



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