A little bit of Christmas Rage.


Tonight, I made a gallant attempt to finish my Christmas shopping online. I was on a roll, with some time up my sleeve, and I won’t lie, I was pretty happily chucking a whole heap of random crap into that shopping cart of mine.

I was getting ready to checkout, when catastrophe struck. I know many of you will feel my pain and rage, because I know many of you will have found yourself in a similar predicament at some point or another.

You know, that awkward moment when you’re mentally high-fiving yourself for finishing the Christmas shopping online, and then you realise that the whole damn shopping cart isn’t available for click and collect, and you’ve missed the cutoff for guaranteed pre-Christmas delivery.

Yeah, that moment. What a ripper.

I’m just going to say it, point blank: KMart, you’ve let me down, you’ve let Santa down, and I just don’t know if I can ever come back from this moment of betrayal.

And because when Rysie gets really ragey, Rysie resorts to communicating via hashtags, as well as speaking in the third person:

#whynoclickandcollectbro #actuallyreallywantedthatrosegoldcutlery #sorrykidsnopresents #santagotscrewedbyKMart #angryChristmasHashtags #bettersendhothusbandtotheshops #dontforgetthecutleryplease
#rysieisnothappyKMart

Now, all of you smugly, sensible folk out there who have got your presents all wrapped up and sitting under your tree, sparkling and shiny, like gloating beacons of festive triumph, well, I don’t want to hear a single word about any of that organised success thank you very much. You just go off and enjoy your pile of presents, while I say lots of swear words, and contemplate wrapping up cans of baked beans and toilet rolls.

Do you know what stings the most about this situation?

It’s that I was stealth shopping. Hot Husband and the kids were upstairs hanging out, and I was all incognito on my phone, getting ready to unleash that credit card with all it’s glory into the depths of KMart’s coffers. He would never have had to know the chaos I was about to unleash. Like, please, take my money: it’s Christmas!

With a stocking filler here, a stocking filler there, here a stocking filler, there a stocking filler…oh wait, that’s right, no one gets a stocking filler, because KMart just killed Christmas.

I just lost 40 minutes of my life, filling that damn trolley with shit we really didn’t need, but I was gettin’ loose and rollin’ with it, and my hopes were high! I was living the Christmas dream, picking out cutlery, perusing the selection of jugs for the Christmas table, and weighing up the pros and cons of single VS dual water dispensers. I had chosen active wear, and stickers, and coasters. Coasters!!

Then, reality swooped in like a seagull, leaving shit in my hair, and stealing the hot chips of my happiness.

And now, as I sit in the aftermath of such crushing disappointment, and I realise I’m going to have to physically go and select these items myself, from an actual store, with actual people, ramming their actual trolleys into my actual ankles, while their actual children shriek like actual banshees, my festive enthusiasm is feeling somewhat tarnished.

But all is not lost.

After all, I’m pretty sure that there’ll be a bit of Mariah Carey, or Michael Buble warbling out some Christmas tunes on the overhead speakers, and a friend tells me that the sushi from the shop next door is pretty flash, so, if all else fails, you’ll find me hiding in my car in the car park, singing along to some carols and smashing down a California roll or two, as I get myself prepped for my new-and-improved-version of click and collect: otherwise known as in-store shopping.

Wish me luck, suckers!

Oh, and if you ram me with your trolley, I will probably kick your head off. Just sayin’.

Big love,

Raging Rysie.

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