Raise your hand if you’ve ever been guilty of impulse buying. That’s what I thought. Almost 100% (except for the two of you in denial, and the guy who’s afraid someone might accuse him of swearing allegiance to an iPad).
Well, I’m guilty as charged—even with online shopping. I remember one particular item I just couldn’t live without. I was salivating like Pavlov’s dog when I clicked “Place your Order.” Two months after the package arrived, the box still hasn’t been opened. Has that ever happened to you? (You can put your hands down now)
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our blog show emcee, who bangs a giant gong if you exceed the 100-word limit, is Babs Barker Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the ensemble of practicing fic-titioners in the writers in FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Men just aren’t cut out for the rigors of shopping. It’s a neurological gender defect. They don’t have the stamina, determination, or killer instinct to find that last one-of-a-kind item.
Every time I need Brad for something, he’s halfway across the store chatting with another pack mule or fiddling with some trinket in the electronics department.
“Hey, look at this,” he’ll say, as if he found a diamond in a goat’s butt.
“Why don’t we go to sporting goods?” I suggest. “Maybe they have one of those battery-powered shock collars.”
“What do we need that for?”
“To keep you focused.”
*the snippet above is an excerpt from “Black Friday Shopping Tips.” The full story is available in One Idiot Short of a Village.
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This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
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