Grocery Shopping Hell
I’m not opposed to shopping; I like buying new things like clothes and electronics every now and then. But what I do avoid like the proverbial plague is grocery shopping. It’s not the stores themselves; it’s the special kind of idiot who doesn’t realize there are actually other people in the store with them.
First of all, just walking down each aisle is like going the wrong way down a one way street during rush hour traffic. All I ask is that you push your cart full of Little Debbie’s and Diet Coke down the right hand side of the aisle. You know…basic fucking driving etiquette (if you’re from England, go fuck yourself and get with the program). That’s basically all shopping carts are anyway; little versions of cars. So move the fuck over and share the road you no manner having ass hat.
Second, if you’re going to look at the back of a product for longer than 5 seconds, move out of the way while doing so. I know you’re concerned about which bag of donuts has less trans-fat or which box of macaroni has the cheesiest ‘for real’, real American cheddar cheese powder, but I’m running late for dinner and my daughter is gonna flip her wig if I don’t come home with her box, any box, of that orange, crack like side dish.
“Not the white cheese, so help me God dad, not the white cheese!”
I allow her that shit once a month. Not necessarily because it’s bad for her; it’s just so she knows who’s running shit and making decisions in the house…besides mommy.
Then there’s the moron who doesn’t stand in front of the display, but stands in the middle of the damn aisle using their cart as a fucking road block as if protecting the gates of Fort Knox…or hell; probably hell because only a child of Satan would be such a dick-hole. Who the holy shit are you and why do I have to be polite and say, “I’m sorry ma’am, may I get by?” What the fuck is that and why am I the only asshole who seems to have any manners?! Are you so God damned egotistical that you think you’re alone here? It’s freaking Wal-Mart on Friday f’ing evening! Every retard in a white trash uniform is here hanging out, which I might add are also clogging up the aisles (much like the effect Kirstie Alley’s bowel movements have on her poor plumbing). So open those portals to infinite emptiness and pay the fuck attention to your surroundings. I’m guessing you’re also the same ass clown that cut me off on the freeway because you were too busy talking to your 30 year old son “sugar butt”, to look in your rearview mirror and make sure the lane was clear.
Finally, there’s the pushy jerk behind me that gets right up on my ass as if trying to smell what brand of toilet paper I use. Do you mind if I find the antifungal cream without being able to feel your nasty, hot breath on my neck, because I got a wicked bad rash on my ass and as close as you are to my brown eye I’d be careful, this shit just might spread like an STD in a nursing home (I heard old people are whores). In short, stay the fuck out of my personal bubble! If you can see the cell structure of my skin and you’re not my doctor, chances are you’re too fucking close! So back off a little and let me breathe some of the air that isn’t your recycled breath. Happy Shopping!