The fucking neanderthals in the parking lot don't know how to fucking drive or park or exist without getting the fuck in my way. People inside the store are even worse, because it's the same cart-to-aisle ratio as it is car-to-aisle ratio, except there's not the end result of thousands of dollars of auto-repairs if you're a moron with a grocery cart inside the store.
Hmmmmmmm. Which pancake mix do I want? Do I want the blueberry or the plain? Oh, they have cinnamon-spice mix! Maybe I should get that. But what if I get maple syrup instead of Butterworth's? Will the flavours compliment each other? What if little Billy doesn't want pancakes for breakfast, what if the --
I DON'T KNOW GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE AISLE YOU STUPID COW. IT SHOULD NOT TAKE LONGER THAN FIFTEEN SECONDS TO PICK OUT A GODDAMN PANCAKE BATTER.
I will die of a heart attack when I'm 30, Christ.
So, when it came down to picking an aisle to check-out at (after dodging and weaving my way between retards like an expert boxer to get the whopping $21 worth of things I absolutely required), it was my turn to be the asshole. I had, maybe, 15 items. The 10 items-or-less slot was wiiiiide open, and not another customer was in sight. So, I took it. The clerk gave me the absolutely dirtiest look ever, and seemed to be mentally counting each individual item as I hurriedly tossed them onto the conveyer belt.
No one got in line behind me. Not a single person had to wait for those extra 5 items. But he still gave me the stink-eye.
DON'T JUDGE ME!
No comments:
Post a Comment