Okay I admit it. I have been using one of the credit cards lately. I know! I know! Shame on me! A thousand times, shame on me!
But I have paid for my transgressions, believe you me.
Let me paint you a tale of a well suited boy, who was unknowingly following the path to the dark side of credit card management, and how the universe taught him a lesson.
So there I am, swiping away the new platinum card (I did mention I got the upgrade didn’t I? I haven’t? Oh *mumbles* I’m sorry *end mumble*.) Flexing my consumerist muscle. And boy it felt goooooooooood.
You know when you’re in a relationship with a bad girl/boy? You know it’s destructive. You know it’s only going to lead to tears. You know you’re going to end up lying on the floor, in your living room, with the curtains drawn, melancholic emo music playing, in your underwear, wondering what the hell happened. You know all this, but you end up doing it anyway. Why? I don’t know. If you figure it out let me know. But anyways, bad relationships equals good, if not great, temporary emotions.
So there I was on a shopping high. I had already bought the DVD’s and done the grocery shopping. I was on the hunt, looking for more material goods to succumb to my platinum charms.
I was eyeing a couple of suits that were flashing me their lining, in the hopes that I would walk on over and give them a good fit, if you know what I mean *waggles eyebrows* ( … I really don’t know how I made that sound dirty… ). Even the Playstation 3 was leaning over in front of me, when it would normally be completely out of my league, shoving its 320 gigs worth of cleavage in my face, begging me to take it home and fondle with its buttons (wow, seriously… I’ve got the ‘horizontal mambo’ in my head today).
Just before I walked into the suit place, which was a hop skip and a jump away from where I would get the Playstation 3. I decided to treat myself to a coffee. And again I was going to use my card. I don’t know WHY I decided to use my card, I had $145 worth of notes in my wallet, and my pockets had the merry jingle when its loaded with coins. Card crazy I guess.
So I ordered my mega-jumbo, huge to the extreme, grandacious, vente-million coffee, or whatever a large flat white is called these days, and was handing over my shiny new platinum card for payment.
Before the transaction was finished, my coffee was ready to go and in my hand. So as I walked out of the coffee shop, I found myself juggling an iPod, my mobile phone, my wallet, my credit card and a steaming – actually BOILING, cup of coffee. You can see where this is going can’t you? Of course you do, but you know, the best stories are the ones that can be told over and over again. It’s not the ending that matters, it’s the little details on how we get there. So read on.
So there I was trying to open my wallet to put the credit card back in, and it happened. I dropped the cup of piping hot coffee. And god knows why I did the next part, I thrust out my pelvis to try to catch it. What in the world was I thinking? That my penis would be able to snake its way out of my trousers and catch the coffee as it plummeted down?? My brain has a waaayyyy too high opinion of my penis if that’s the case. Anyway, as the falling cup of coffee hits my thrust out pelvis, the lid comes off, and there is now scalding hot coffee seeping through my pants into my most private of places. It was hot. Actually it was HOT. Like how you would think the fires of hell would be hot.
And I screamed.
And I will confess, it wasn’t the manly scream of rage and pain that is so often depicted in movies when the hero has to endure all manner of physical pain.
I screamed like a girl.
Like a 3 year old girl who just got an owie.
It was high-pitched and piercing.
It was not my best moment.
I dropped everything and tried to keep my pants off my skin without actually taking off said pants. Since however, that the inventor of pants didn’t seem to have thought that this was a necessary option for his invention to have, I failed. The pants were searing, and sticking to me in unusual and terrifyingly blistering ways.
An elderly woman, with laughter in her eyes, collected all the items that I had dropped, and asked if I was okay. I made a sound that could only be described as a whimpering grunt of acknowledgement, and hobbled to the restroom to try to cool my crotch with as much dignity as possible, when one is trying to hold ones pants away from ones genitalia.
I managed to limp my way home, soon after and found a pack of frozen peas that gave up its self-respect as I forced it to give me a lap dance in order to cool my nether regions.
And it was at that moment, lying on the floor, in my living room, with the curtains drawn, melancholic emo music playing, in my underwear, holding a pack of frozen peas to my crotch, wondering what the hell happened, I realised that I had completely forgotten about the suits and the Playstation 3. That the universe had saved me from making another huge credit card blunder, albeit by boiling my manhood. A tad extreme perhaps, but I am nothing if rather dense, and it takes an extreme sort of thing to grab my attention.
So to the universe, I give you my thanks, but per-maybe-haps next time, aim somewhere else.