Fuck You, Good Friday.

Does Good Friday always turn out to be good? Or does it just feel that way because the Thursday before Good Friday is over?

Yesterday I had to go to the shops to get milk and that stupid Poopin’ Pup toy from the Easter Bunny because I am a damn fool. I’d lost track of time and actually did not realise that Easter was so soon, so I joined the rest of the world in the mall. IT. WAS. NUTS.

What the fuck is up with the panic shopping? Never mind North Korea getting their knickers in a twist about Trump this week, this was actual fear amongst real people. I saw hundreds of civilians with trolleys piled high with food and Easter Eggs because the shops are going to be closed for ONE DAY.

Getting into the car park was a fucking disaster. It was the only time I wish I owned a tank so that I could just drive over the top of the idiots who looked like they were driving with their eyes closed. Lucky it’s dark in car parks, because there was some colourful language and dance moves in the form of my arms flailing and middle finger saluting.

Once inside I was swallowed up amongst the sea of desperate shoppers. Each of them with their face contorted in horror at the price of prawns, short supply of cream and non eggistent discounts on the already ridiculous price of chocolate treats. But they were buying them in their thousands, despite the fact they would all be half price in 3 days time.

Then there were the queue jumpers. The fools that either don’t notice or deliberately ignore the unspoken rule of waiting your fucking turn. The deli counters sometimes have those little paper tickets that are meant to stop people bashing each other, but they don’t work because 90% of people are too dumb to take them. Then a fucking shit fight breaks out because someone has to wait 10 more seconds for their shaved ham.

Bakers Delight is not much of a delight if there are more than 4 people waiting, because the shops are always so small. I try and be polite, but I draw the line when some woman pushes down the side to see her “friend” and then swipes the last Vegemite scroll.

Oh no you didn’t!

Listen, bitch. You are the reason for me having more time to pick up the apple and cinnamon hot cross buns that I will eat all of on the way home. Which went really well with the chocolate milk I swiped from the impulse bar at the checkout in Coles. And the Kinder Surprise bunny that I also grabbed out of pure boredom in the giant line at Target while I was waiting to spend $32 on a fake dog that shits plastic.

It matters not that we’ve all been overeating since Christmas. The buns were on the shelves in January and now it’s fucking April. That’s four months of bun scoffing to top up the Christmas arse which turns into Easter arse which turns into mid winter hibernation arse that turns into not fucking fitting into anything arse come summertime.

My sugar high was next level by the time I fetched the kids from daycare. I was shaking like a fucking leaf. Was it just from sugar? Or being a part of the doomsday panic shopping that happens before a public holiday?

Fuck You, Good Friday. There is nothing good about you apart from the day off work. You simply exist to calm everyone down for the one day before Shitty Saturday when everyone dashes out again to top up the fridge and beat each other in an angry frenzy. But not me. I got everything I needed, apart from…….AH FUCK.


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