Friday, November 25, 2011

Grocery Shopping

Usually I love grocery shopping...because I love food.  What I don't like are crowded stores.  I try to shop in the early morning or late evening just to avoid crowds.  Yesterday, the day before Thanksgiving, was horrible.

The Husband and I have to go have family fun with his side of the family this year.  I like his family so it's not a big deal.  Plus, I don't have to cook the whole dinner.  I did, however, get instructions from the SIL (sister in law)to bring a dessert.  No problemo...PW pound cake coming right up.  The only problem is that the last time I made it the crust stuck to the bundt pan.  Now I'm paranoid that it's going to stick again and that the cake's going to be ruined.  So off to the store I go to buy different cooking spray.

I get to the store and immediately realize I've chosen poorly.  The parking lot is full.  Fortunately I was in the car and not the truck so I could squeeze into a smaller space.  My plan is to get the spray and get out...pronto.

I usually grab a cart only because I know that once I get inside a store and don't have a cart, I immediately need one. The first hold up was in the shopping cart area where there were really s-l-o-w people.  Not old, just the meandering sort who have no idea that there are other people behind them waiting to get a cart. These people annoy me...not the waiters...the meanderers.  I don't think that's really a word but I don't care.

Finally a cart is in my hands which fortunately, since I didn't want to take the time to check, has all wheels functioning in sync.  So I think maybe this will be an okay trip.  I usually check to make sure the carts roll properly because I hate having one that has a sticky wheel that always wants to pull you to the right or left and you have to fight just to go in a straight line.  I also hate the carts that make noise with each turn of the wheel...sometimes it's a loud squeak, sometimes it's a thump, thump, thump, with each makes me feel like E.F. Hutton...and that people are staring.  I'm sure it's all in my imagination but I can't shake the feeling.

I wind my way through masses of people oblivious to the fact they're blocking isles... kids running lose with snotty noses knocking shit over... old folks shuffling along... young folks ignoring their kids with snotty noses knocking shit over, all doing their best to make my quick little trip an hour long torture fest.

I grab the cooking spray...and a few other least they seem necessary at the hindsight, they probably weren't...anyway I'm off to the checkout. This is one of those large discount food stores where you unload your groceries onto a conveyor belt and bag your own stuff.  Lines were a mile long.

In the line next to me were two old ladies with painted on eyebrows, bright blue eye shadow, coral lipstick, and pin curls...not carrot red either, solid brown...sisters as I was soon to find out.  When a clerk came and grabbed the one in front to open a new checkstand, I ended up behind her.  The other old lady looked at me and, of course, I felt guilty so I asked her if she wanted to go ahead of me.  Old Lady #1, hereafter referred to as #1, thanked me and told me that Old Lady #2, hereafter referred to as #2, was her sister.  Yadda, yadda, yadda...just go lady, I'm in a hurry (to myself, of her, I smile and nod).

#2 gets her order paid for and rolls her cart to the end of the belt and #1 puts her stuff on the belt.  While #1 is paying, I start unloading my cart.  There's a rhythm to this.  I have a whopping four items.  After paying, I look and see that #1 & #2 (kinda sounds like I'm talking about peeing & pooping now...doesn't it?) are standing at the end and just gabbing.  Neither of them is bagging their groceries.

The cashier, who's probably in her early twenties, sees that the oldsters are holding up the line and asks #1 to please bag her groceries.

Apparently #1 thinks I've complained or am in some way responsible for her mild reprimand by the cashier because she starts ripping plastic bags off the little rack that holds them and throws them at me.  She doesn't say a word but glares at me making a scrunchy sphincter face with each toss (four in all).  #2 glares at me making the same sphincter face and now I can see the sisterly resemblance...thankfully #2 doesn't start pelting me with plastic like her sis.  Fucking hags.

Part of me wants to laugh, part of me wants to tell her to fuck off, and part of me is mortified because I'm sure everyone watching thinks I must have said or done something horrible to this poor old lady to make her behave like this.  Honest, I was just standing there fat, dumb, and happy, minding my own business.  I didn't even complain to the cashier about the Hagathas holding up the line.  Jeez.

In the end I used each of the four bags ole Sphincter Face threw at me, bagged my four items individually, and slunk out of the store hoping to get to my car before I inadvertently pissed someone else off and they started throwing solid objects at me.

I knew it was a bad idea to go to the store.  Looking back if I'd just walked into the store without stopping for a cart, picked up the one item I needed, paid and left...I would have avoided the whole embarrassing bag throwing hag's the stoopidist thing.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Trying To Be Sympathetic

Occasionally...okay, frequently, I put my foot in my mouth. The other day I had a friend coming over to ride with me after work. I got there early, saddled the horses, and was riding when she got there.

This friend, I’ll call her Em, is a teacher at a continuation high school for troubled teens. These are kids who have trouble fitting in at “regular” high schools for various reasons...some which I think are valid, some are not. The point here is not to get into whether I think that a number of kids these days are raised to think “everybody’s a winner” and that they are entitled to everything their little hearts desire without having to work for anything. The point is made only to show that I’m a little less sympathetic to the plight of Em’s “kids” than she is.

So anyway, Em gets there and brings the horse she’s gonna ride out where I’m riding. I can tell something’s wrong so I ask the dreaded question...

Me: “Is something wrong?”

Em: “I think I’m gonna cry.”

Me: “Why?”

I’m thinking to myself WTF am I gonna do now??? I hate it when people cry...I never know what to say or do to make them feel better. AND even more selfishly, I I’m not gonna get to finish riding my friggin’ selfish is that??? I’m scum...I know it.

The problem is I’m not big on public displays of emotion. It makes me nervous. I’m sure there’s something screwed up in my psyche that makes me feel this way but like I said before, I never know what to say or do to...and as you’re about to shows. Plus, every time I get nervous, I tend to laugh. It’s really hard to keep a straight face when someone’s crying because they usually look soooo ugly with their face all screwed up and snot coming out their nose, eyes all puffy and red. Personally, I look like a salamander when I cry so I know whereof I speak.

Em: “One of my kids killed himself”

Me: “Oh no” (Yes, it was the best I could do on short notice.)

Em: “I was fine at school and held it together all day but now it’s...” and the tears start

Me: crickets.....I don’t know what to say...I do however, think to my self...selfishly I admit, I wish you’d gotten it all out at school...

Em: “He hung himself” Then she tells me about the kid...he’s the kind of kind you love and hate...took care of his grandma, parents left him...really sad.

Please note, I realize the tragedy this is and that she’s really feeling bad so I, being the eternal Pollyanna (hard to believe, I know...but it’s true), try to find a bright side.

Me: “Maybe he wasn’t really trying to kill himself, maybe he was doing that auto erotic thing and just accidentally hung himself."

I’m thinking at least it would be better if he died accidentally while having a little freaky fun than that he was so despondent he felt there was nothing to live for at such a young age. Looking back I may have chosen poorly. Hindsight is always 20/20...

Em looked up for a second and then said “nah, I don’t think so”. She had stopped crying...probably in shock that I would suggest something like that...

It didn’t even really occur to me that it may have been a little inappropriate until I was retelling the story the next day at work and the Princess looked at me horrified and said “You really said that?????”.

Geeesh...try to make someone feel better and you’re scum...don’t try to make someone feel better and you’re scum...either way, I end up being scum. My apologies to anyone I have offended in the past, present and future.

On a lighter note, I went into the bathroom at work the other day to pee and accidentally farted...audibly...OMG, I was mortified. Being a mature adult, I stayed in the stall until everyone else had left, then I rushed out and washed my hands and left before anyone else came in. I had to wait a long time in that stall...I think the lady next to me was a sneak a's the stoopidist thing.