Scooby Snacks

By: pixbyshumbles

Feb 07 2012

Category: February 2012

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I went into the Big Shmoke today – Sligo, for the uninitiated: Dublin’s not even on the collective map round these here parts!

I went in to pick up some Goldfinger work but also for a mooch around. I had €20 to spend on myself and dammit I was heading straight for Penneys.

Well readers, I went in, mulled around, stepping over piles of discarded knitwear, contemplating the merits of one jegging over another.

A jegging, for any non-fashionistas out there (tut tut), is a genetically modified mutant.

The lovechild of stretchy jeans and leggings.

Surprisingly comfortable if you like the nappy-arse look … whatever it is about them, try as I might to love them (and I have owned a pair or two in my time so I really have tried, people) they just remind me of those elasticated pants that children in nappies wear.

Yep, they look like Big Boy pants.

You can see where this is going, can’t you?

I came out empty of hand, jeggingless if you will and, more importantly, sans jumper because I’d actually gone in to investigate the geansaís. Y’see, with the washing machine still out of action and the mangle stuck in the post from the 1600s (something to do with an outbreak of The Plague apparently), I have a dearth of warm clothes to wear. So there I was with some stretchy nylon/acrylic nightmare in my paws when common sense hit me like a tonne of smelly pvc (or what I like to call pleather) shoes landing on my head.

There’d be sweat. Everywhere.

Cheap fabrics make me sweat.

So I dropped the jumper that taste bypassed and paused just long enough to ponder (and pay for) a scarf with skulls on it. Arr me hearties, this spring be all about Cap’n Sparrow … or Hook or some such seafarin’ divil.

Anyway, the long and the short of it is that I could find nothing to spend me dough on …

… so I went to the Co-Op and bought dog biscuits.

I am welcomed as a hero in my own home.

Hopefully this time The Flatpack won’t help herself to the 2kg bag, leaving mere crumbs for the Big Brown Bow-wow.

I am a saint. Meanwhile, I shiver, jumperless but dry of armpit.

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