January 07, 2004

Excuse me, would you like to explore my rectum?

That's what I wanted to say to the shopping cart lady at Publix.

It's like 40 below here (or it feels that way to me), and I'm trying to get into Publix (that's the grocery store), and she's got this plot to block me, screeching her empty cart to a halt right in front me so I have to slow down to an inch-at-a-time crawl as I'm trying to make my way INTO the store, and so I go to the left, and I guess she's trying to get out of my way, but instead she goes to the left too, and she's looking at the sales flyer instead of paying attention to the other customers who would like to, before they freeze into ice statues, get INTO the store... And WHY is she so adamant about looking at the flyer before she even gets into the store? Can she not wait to be, perhaps, all the WAY into the store to peruse the sales? And so I go to the right, and she's like DRUNK DRIVING this shopping cart because she's too busy trying to see how much half-and-half will cost her this frosty evening, and so, of course, she blocks my way yet again, and all I want to do for crying out loud is get INTO Publix and over to the ATM machine so I can withdraw a lousy $20, which I'll now probably have to spend as a Co-Pay when I go to Emergency to have them sew back on my FROSTBITTEN FINGERS! So FINALLY, mind you AT LAST, I get around Ms. Queen of Publix, and I start making my way to the ATM machine just in time for her to be all of a sudden in a hurry and decide that the best place for her to be at this moment is ON MY ASS all the way to the ATM.

For crying out loud, Lady, get a life!

I silently wished her a terminal case of agoraphobia, got my money, and hightailed it to my car.

I'm glad to be HOME.