20 items or… EATIT

Posted on July 21, 2011. Filed under: Miscellaneous, Musings | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , |

I’ve learned a great deal over the course of my life so far. I’d like to think of myself as possessing a point of view that the population at large would never stop long enough to consider much less contemplate. Born the way I am, I’ve always felt like an “outsider” that I didn’t fit in, no matter how hard I tried. OH how I tried, for years and years I tried. I have to say that attempting to fit in is probably the root of most of the misery I endured in my past (ultimately.)

Ahem. SO, I’ve learned that I am MUCH happier on the fringe of society than in the mix. I love me some Internet. At least now I do. We have Marcimallow to thank for dragging me kicking and screaming into the social media scene for that. (smooches) I bring all this up to illustrate a point. I’m generally a smartbutt. (This post is verbally sanitized for your protection.) I crack me up, a lot of times it rubs off on others. I love getting a laugh. The last few days I’ve been having a dry spell (oh geez my dog just had the vapors, startled me – off topic but eww,) ok. The thing is, my epiphany today, is that I have nothing fun to say when I am home safe under my rock.  (MAJOR EWW that wasn’t the dog it was a bug whose flight sounds like flatulence, it landed on me and I b!(@# slapped it away, now it’s ??, great) Moving on. I’m not inspired to write anything humorous until I am out lurking about with “normies” (I use the term loosely.) “Normal” people crack me up.

I caved earlier tonight and went to the So-So Center (it’d earn the title Super if it had Dill Pickle Chips… nice try Blob that eats small businesses.) I normally don’t shop there but the hour and my shopping list left me little choice. So as I cruise to the far end of the world for french vanilla creamer, someone hid the kind I wanted so I nearly had a hissy, I kept my cool and karma revealed my prize – yay. It was at that point I dove into my cavernous purse iso the pacifier for Bobo, the monkey on my back. Horrified I realized my electronic cigarette was back home on the table by my “nest” on the couch (where I presently am plopped.) There went my mood. (No, not a swing, I’m allowed to fluctuate as anyone else would without it being a “polar” issue…)

I grumpily head over to hardware n stuff. Normally I’m all over everything on that side of the store like a molester packing ether but I was a good girl. I needed to fix the toilet handle arm thingy. I knew exactly what I needed and headed straight for it. There was an older couple and a sweet lil old lady asked me if I was doing a little home repair. I told her I just had to fix the potty handle and was proud of myself, that I’d been good and was “swatting the lil devil on my shoulder telling me to buy everything else on my way through hardware.” She looked down at the cinnamon rolls and frozen pizza I had in my cart and had the audacity to look at me sternly and say, “You swatted him away, did you?” I told her, “Eatit,” smiled and walked away. (hahahaha)

Some people are just butt heads (sanitized)

I felt better having told off an old lady (I know I know) and headed to the checkout. There were plenty open but all had small lines. I didn’t have many things but they were arranged flatly and completely obscured the bottom of my cart. Guiltily I went to the Express Lane hoping for the best. As I put my good girl stuff on the counter (eatit old lady) I noticed a woman with her daughter and their cart “runneth over.” The woman stopped at the first express lane and the teen pushing the cart never skipped a beat, heading past towards the “lotta stuff” lines. The scrawny leather-tan woman called out, “I don’t care I said come here!”

LET THE GAMES BEGIN!

Oh it was ON hahahaha I cheered up instantly. NOBODY gets to be Princess whoopdedoo in my world but me. I pull some cheese stunts but this was just plain ignorant and wrong.

Even ~I~ in my wildest ultra-radian category 6 kaleidoscope of mood swinging episodes wouldn’t pull such a heinous faux pas. I may be a misfit but I’m no scumbag.

I IMMEDIATELY commenced to an audible verbal assault. Everything from a rousing round of “Who can count to twenty?!” and “Oh WOW, we’re too late, look at the ignorance and that THING has already reproduced, I hope it’s not genetic.” (I quickly decided to lay off the kid.) I proceeded to The Count from Sesame Street with my checkout lady. Do you know why they call me the count, because I love to count! ONE hahaha, TWO hahaha. and TWENTY hahaha NOW STOP, no really STOP, seriously S T O P… all with an uber fake Dracula accent. I realized there were two younger men behind me in line laughing (the checkout lady had tears she was laughing hard, I just ranted the whole time about the stupidity and audacity of the leather-tan numerically challenged chick at the counter beside me) I asked the dudes behind me, can you believe that? Then proceeded to slam her anew. I “called” the guy in the blue shirt on my “finger phone”… “Hey blue shirt dude, check out that dingbat with the monster cart in the express lane, oop, wait, got another call, …hey can I call you back, I’m telling my new friend about this ignorant lady with like 100 items in the 20 item lane, I think she’s ~speshul~ click… OK, I”m back. Good talking to you but I’ve gotta go, tell your friend I said Hi.” They laughed more.

I thought I’d be fun to get more involved. I looked at their basket, said Right On and shoved my hand out at the closest guy saying, “I want to shake your “I can count to twenty a$$ hand, you rule.” An unexpected snort noise popped out of him when I said it and laughingly shook. As soon as I turned to his friend he was already scooping up my hand and giving it a FIRM shake as he pipped in “NINE!” pointing to his cart. I squeaked -laughing so hard I couldn’t make a real noise. He didn’t give me a chance to say anything he wanted his turn. The checkout lady was fanning herself with a clean up towel and blotting her forehead and kept looking slyly over her shoulder then busting into gales of laughter she kept trying to stifle. My things were bagged and I paid for my stuff, it took probably ten minutes to get my things scanned and bagged because I relentlessly was ripping on that douche in the other line with her 90+ items… I paid and my lady handed me my receipt squeezing my hand grinning as she did.

I had a moment of shame when I realized I hadn’t actually counted my things and sheepishly looked at my total. I peeked at it, licked the back, stuck it to my forehead and loudly pronounced TWENTY. Then threw in “TWENTY – TWENTY ITEMS IN THE EXPRESS LANE AH HA HA” just like The Count again high fiving the lady and the guys behind me. I saw the ignorant woman out of the corner of my eye shooting me a go to (you know where) look and she flipped me the bird. I flashed all ten of my fingers in the air twice to indicate 20 smiled, peeled my receipt off my forehead and strolled off laughing feeling smug as (you know where.) (Orbitz mouth baby)

Karma started to kick my ASS for that one. (can’t sanitize that, it was coming – I’d earned it in spades, I just knew it was going to make me eatit.)

As I approached my car in the parking lot the first thing I noticed was that I had left my headlights on the whole time I was in the store

Oh no! The world is a wheel.

I tell myself it was worth it, I haven’t laughed so much in I don’t know how long, made everyone else in earshot laugh too to some degree or another.

(For the record, Karma had just warned me, the car started right up. Maybe Karma has a sense of humor too?

-Stacy

-egg

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