Entertainment, Lifestyle, Relationships, What's On Our Mind

Fuck you, Shopping Centre Rides.

Far Kew by Far Kew
May 26th, 2016

I hate to go shopping. It’s where the most insufferable fools like to hang out, seemingly just to give me the fucking shits.

If I want to make a place in a fiery hell-like situation seem preferable to living, I take my kids to the local shopping centre and combine two of my most hated tasks. Shopping. And shopping with my children.

My local hell-hole, I mean mall, is your typical run-of-the-mill centre with the usual suspects available like Coles, Woolies, Target, JB Hi-Fi and a food court. But you cannot enter this place without finding those fucking vending machines selling life-threatening confectionery, cheap plastic trinkets or choke hazard bouncing balls. Or it could be those machines with the claw which I am certain they wax up so you never fucking win.

If you can get past those without your kids having an epic meltdown and almost dislocating your arm from pulling, you will be met in about 5 steps by one of those merry-go-round kiddie rides. Cue another epic meltdown if you do not let them at least sit on it for a couple of minutes. They have flashing lights, friendly paint-jobs and are super fucking appealing to kids.

I’ve spat out the same sad old lines time and time again “Sorry, mummy has run out of money.” “This one is broken.” “No, we don’t put money in these it’s a waste.” My kids are usually happy to sit on it and pretend for a few minutes while I muster up the strength to keep going.

Once they get their fill of the Wiggles’ Big Red Car or the Thomas The Tank Engine ride, we press on. But little more than 8 fucking steps later and there’s another one! YIPPPEEEEE.20464496895_4d0f09a55e

I want to choke myself.

You might think I’m a killjoy. But the couple of times I have actually relented and put a $2 coin into these fund-sucking masterpieces of shit, I’ve been left feeling so ripped off I want to kick Thomas’ face in. They only go for about 60 fucking seconds and that’s hardly enough time to get your phone out and take a photo of their delirious little faces for the grandparents. Fuck You, Thomas.

A couple of times we’ve gotten lucky and approached a ride when some other sucker of a parent has been roped into putting money in. So I bolt towards it to slam dunk both of my kids in there faster than you can say “hot potato”. No way am I missing that shit. People say “There’s no such thing as a free ride.” Well, I say there is.

I expect this sort of behaviour is probably going to divide you mums on here like a circumcision post on the North Shore Mums Facebook group. But I don’t give a rat’s. It’s how I roll.

You can spend an hour trying to run the gauntlet of fools in a mall when all you need is a loaf of bread. And it’s all because of these stupid machines. It can feel worse than putting your back out trying to avoid the deep sea mineral guys or the charity collectors. They piss me off too, because they don’t let you past unless you fake a phone call, look intently at a window display or fork out $30 a month in a direct debit scheme. What ever happened to giving loose change or a fiver? I love donating to charity and do so often, but I’ll pick and choose what and when. I don’t need you trying to trip me over when I am just trying to get my shopping done. It’s suffocating.

Do I sound mean? Talk to Sea Shepherd who got $6000 off me a few years ago. Long story, but I do good things when I can.

What I would like to know is this. How is this placement of money pits allowed to happen in such density? Don’t we have rights? If I want my kids to go on a ride I’ll take them to fucking Disneyland when they turn ten for some real rides, not a 59 second musical trip through hell that equates to $120 per hour of value.

Fuck You, Shopping Centre Rides. Fuck your overpopulation of shiny, glittery, appealing kiddie entertainment. Fuck your Big Red Car and your stupid vending machines full of crap. Fuck the millions of kids that have come before mine and licked the steering wheel and fuck the antibacterial wipes I have to use to stop my kids getting gastro.

THE END.

For more HILARIOUS pieces from Far Kew check out Fuck You Friday’s blog.

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