Bondi Junction, you see, is frankly an eyesore but it has every level of retail satisfaction covered, with tat galore. Perfect if you’re not actually there to spend, but marvel at consumerism at its least alluring.
Although it’s been overshadowed by the mammoth Westfield Bondi Junction development (in which my mother has been known to lose mobile phone contact), I think the quintessential BJ experience is to be had at the Eastgate complex, which houses a Coles, a Lowes (the last word in blokewear) and, among many others, our destination – K-Mart.
Jeffrey, you see, needed to buy a certain kind of vacuum cleaner bag, available at only K-Mart. I suspect he’s also mourning the loss of the nearby Ikea store and felt the urge to wander semi-aimlessly along multiple aisles of impulse purchases, a pursuit I was more than happy to enable.
The problem with the BJ K-Mart is that it’s underground and involves descending a truly bleak, pram-friendly ramp of doom to a huge, ferociously lit pit of unnecessary but competitively priced household fixtures, appliances, accessories, 'enhancements', toys and – the highlight of any such trip – budget fashion.
To a not-entirely unpleasant ‘classic rock’ soundtrack (“Ooh, baby I love your way…”) we managed to stumble upon the vacuum district and I have to say I was a little shocked.
For one, they’re tiny, and most of them looked more like food processors or coffee machines. It made me feel strangely old (as opposed to guilty for the dust mounting in my apartment).
To compound this, we had an eerily nostalgic moment (having recovered from the foul smell of fertiliser in the plant nursery section) flicking through the Little Golden Books carousel. The Poky Little Puppy lives on.
I guess that’s something to smile about.
Of course, I had a severe bout of retail withdrawal having left without buying anything so I leapt upon the novelty vending machine directly outside the cashier’s counter.
I just knew $2 would buy me excitement, wonder and the knowledge that I’ve contributed to the destruction of the planet through the consumption of yet more pointless plastic:
It’s baffling at first, undeniably cute and disturbingly squishy; a kind of yo-yo meets paddle-ball/mindless-distraction device that invites delighted, spastic movement and has already provided… oh, seconds of play.
An afternoon well spent.
7 comments:
I loved Little Golden Books but I don't recall The Poky Little Puppy story. Maybe you can share it with us some time Brad.
How's the job hunting going?
Job hunting?
Umm...
As if lois can get another job. She's only ever worked in the gay world and she's burnt all her bridges there! She applied for a job at ACON and everyone laughed there heads off - it's pinned to a wall in someone's office for amusement purposes. Guess who's wall...
RW, if you insist on lying about me, at least be grammatically correct.
That would be 'whose' wall.
Deadshit.
whose/who's - big deal. A small typo doesn't change the facts, which is why you don't argue them and have to pick at small grammatical errors instead.
The facts? You're still here, reading my supposedly sad blog.
Think about it, dickwad...
Dickwads are hawt. Great to take up the ass when ya wanna catch HIV, aren't they Lois?
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