Wednesday was Drama Day in my little section of Heaven, and I didn't even have to leave the shopping center where the Home Depot is located. An overview, if you will.
Late morning, Starbucks
I had to work a later shift on Wednesday, so I went to Starbucks before work for a cup of life...er, I mean coffee. Everything was okay and I was settling down to enjoy my life-sustaining elixir when I couldn't help but hear the following from a "man" on his cellphone.
"Bitch, are you fuckin' finished talking? No? Then shut the fuck up. Shut...Shut the .... Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up, bitch. Why are you still talking, bitch? Shut the fuck up."
He continued on and on with his misogynistic mutterings completely oblivious to the women and children who were trying to enjoy their overpriced liquid crack. I got up to leave and he was still going on and on. I'll give that bitch credit, though...she obviously wasn't shutting up.
Early evening, Port of Subs
For those of you unaware of the Port of Subs franchise, it's a unique establishment. Only teenagers with bad skin are allowed to make your food, and only bimbette bleach-blonde chicks who can't add or subtract are allowed to operate the cash register. Whereas Subway has Jered as a spokesman, Port of Subs is promoted by a hare-lipped gypsy on a unicycle. But that's not the point of this.
If you ever find yourself in a P.O.S., DO NOT order a Caesar salad. There is no romaine lettuce in the building, so they use shredded iceberg sandwich lettuce. Okay, then DON'T CALL IT A CAESAR! This salad must have been named after one of those sorry-ass Caesars who inherited the throne as a child and perished from the bloody flux soon afterward. But that's not the point of this either.
I was not enjoying my salad when trouble walked through the door in the form of three sideway's-tilted-non-cootered-hat-wearin'-KFed-wannabe-motherfuckers and one of their girlfriends, who admittedly had a great body but also a face that made me think at any minute they were going to draft her to start making meatball subs. All was well, but then sooner than a throng of hillbillies can chant "JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!" ol' pox face decided she didn't like the way her boyfriend was talking through his non-cooter to the semi-literate but clear-faced cashier, so she decided to make a scene.
"Why don't you ask that bitch out, then!" she bellowed as she made a dramatic exit from Subway's down's syndromed cousin.
He replied something vaquely KFedish in nature and proceeded after her. I have no doubt someone's trailer home was rockin' from some hot make-up sex that night. Or he ran her down with his Camaro. Either way.
After work, Wal-Mart
Yeah, I know I deserve whatever horror awaits me when I enter a Wal-Mart, just because I walked through the door in the first place. However, hear me out. I selected three or four items and immediately went to the Self-Checkout. As soon as I put my stuff on the counter, this little douchebag and his trollish wife walk up behind me and the guy starts seriously invading my personal space. First of all, he lets his shit intermingle with mine, even though they have those little plastic shit separators. He's like a red cunt hair away from me as I scan my items. It's not my fault this pesky Napoleon-complex-having cocksucker is a grown man who isn't even five feet tall, sports a Dirty Sanchezesque shitstache in lieu of real facial hair, and has a raging oxycotin addiction; give me some fucking room!!
Oh, but the final cuntcockshitbastard straw was when he started scanning his items as I waited for my receipt.
"Excuse me, I'm not finished."
"Hey, it's still printing my receipt."
The entire time he kept swiping the same item over and over, until I, in a fit of rage I haven't had in years, grabbed the item from his hands, tossed it in the direction of his cart, and screamed "I'M NOT FINISHED YET!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I'm sure from the look on his face he had a shit stain in his pants that matched the one above his lip. As I made my escape before I killed him, I could hear him curse me in Esperanto, so maybe communication was a problem, but in no society on earth is what he did acceptable. Of course, I also felt bad about the way I reacted. Despite my blog rantings, I go out of my way to be polite to strangers. It is never, ever ever ever reciprocated, but I do it anyway. I hold the door open for people who it WOULD FUCKING KILL TO SAY "THANK YOU"; I let people merge into traffic and never get the little wave. That day, I could be polite no longer.
Late morning, Starbucks
I had to work a later shift on Wednesday, so I went to Starbucks before work for a cup of life...er, I mean coffee. Everything was okay and I was settling down to enjoy my life-sustaining elixir when I couldn't help but hear the following from a "man" on his cellphone.
"Bitch, are you fuckin' finished talking? No? Then shut the fuck up. Shut...Shut the .... Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up, bitch. Why are you still talking, bitch? Shut the fuck up."
He continued on and on with his misogynistic mutterings completely oblivious to the women and children who were trying to enjoy their overpriced liquid crack. I got up to leave and he was still going on and on. I'll give that bitch credit, though...she obviously wasn't shutting up.
Early evening, Port of Subs
For those of you unaware of the Port of Subs franchise, it's a unique establishment. Only teenagers with bad skin are allowed to make your food, and only bimbette bleach-blonde chicks who can't add or subtract are allowed to operate the cash register. Whereas Subway has Jered as a spokesman, Port of Subs is promoted by a hare-lipped gypsy on a unicycle. But that's not the point of this.
If you ever find yourself in a P.O.S., DO NOT order a Caesar salad. There is no romaine lettuce in the building, so they use shredded iceberg sandwich lettuce. Okay, then DON'T CALL IT A CAESAR! This salad must have been named after one of those sorry-ass Caesars who inherited the throne as a child and perished from the bloody flux soon afterward. But that's not the point of this either.
I was not enjoying my salad when trouble walked through the door in the form of three sideway's-tilted-non-cootered-hat-wearin'-KFed-wannabe-motherfuckers and one of their girlfriends, who admittedly had a great body but also a face that made me think at any minute they were going to draft her to start making meatball subs. All was well, but then sooner than a throng of hillbillies can chant "JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!" ol' pox face decided she didn't like the way her boyfriend was talking through his non-cooter to the semi-literate but clear-faced cashier, so she decided to make a scene.
"Why don't you ask that bitch out, then!" she bellowed as she made a dramatic exit from Subway's down's syndromed cousin.
He replied something vaquely KFedish in nature and proceeded after her. I have no doubt someone's trailer home was rockin' from some hot make-up sex that night. Or he ran her down with his Camaro. Either way.
After work, Wal-Mart
Yeah, I know I deserve whatever horror awaits me when I enter a Wal-Mart, just because I walked through the door in the first place. However, hear me out. I selected three or four items and immediately went to the Self-Checkout. As soon as I put my stuff on the counter, this little douchebag and his trollish wife walk up behind me and the guy starts seriously invading my personal space. First of all, he lets his shit intermingle with mine, even though they have those little plastic shit separators. He's like a red cunt hair away from me as I scan my items. It's not my fault this pesky Napoleon-complex-having cocksucker is a grown man who isn't even five feet tall, sports a Dirty Sanchezesque shitstache in lieu of real facial hair, and has a raging oxycotin addiction; give me some fucking room!!
Oh, but the final cuntcockshitbastard straw was when he started scanning his items as I waited for my receipt.
"Excuse me, I'm not finished."
"Hey, it's still printing my receipt."
The entire time he kept swiping the same item over and over, until I, in a fit of rage I haven't had in years, grabbed the item from his hands, tossed it in the direction of his cart, and screamed "I'M NOT FINISHED YET!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I'm sure from the look on his face he had a shit stain in his pants that matched the one above his lip. As I made my escape before I killed him, I could hear him curse me in Esperanto, so maybe communication was a problem, but in no society on earth is what he did acceptable. Of course, I also felt bad about the way I reacted. Despite my blog rantings, I go out of my way to be polite to strangers. It is never, ever ever ever reciprocated, but I do it anyway. I hold the door open for people who it WOULD FUCKING KILL TO SAY "THANK YOU"; I let people merge into traffic and never get the little wave. That day, I could be polite no longer.
26 Comments:
LMAO!
OH MY GAWD...I have so wanted to have an absolute screaming meemie fit in Wal-mart.
YOU ARE MY HERO!
and I love ya too ;)
I don't know what happened to the font size on that last paragraph. I can't fix it unless I want to erase it and write it again, and I don't want to.
rachel,
no, you're my hero. Love ya back.
You're making me want to move to Vegas with all this entertainment. And here I thought hicks and Southern Babtists were the epitome of entertainment!
First, the thing I empathize with you more than anything, is that you're stuck with split-shifts. Nothing sucks the soul out of your faster, because both your body clock and your social life have to constantly adjust and it's that much harder to build continuity.
Second, I'm glad the woman on the phone didn't shut up either. If not, this guy would focus his anger on the poor workers behind the counter or on someone in line.
Third, we don't P.O.S, probably because we would call it Port of Scuzz or a word synonymous with excrement. Hell, we just got Quiznos on this side of the Bay about three years ago. Really bad acne kills the appetite and it always correlates to bad food. The worse the acne, the worse the food will be exponentially.
"Why don't you ask that bitch out, then!" she bellowed as she made a dramatic exit from Subway's down's syndromed cousin."
Still, be thankful, you just got to see a bad Elimidate episode for free, without commercials.
Fourth, when people invade your space from behind like that, then continue to do so??? Wannabe sodomists or spatial-sodomists. Either way, the dirty Sanchez was there for a reason.
Last, but not least, you rock! Your blog is one of the reasons that my television viewing is way down.
If it's one thing I can't stand it's invasion of personal space. Are people that fucking stupid that they can't tell that they are doing it?
I have been in a people hating mood for the last week or so, I would've exploded too but I probably would've thrown the item into his shitstache in the hope of giving him a fat lip and something to think about every time he looked in the mirror.
i admire your patience....i too try to be as nice as possible for as long as possible....then sometimes, i just snap!
You need to make a stink more often. Then, maybe you wouldn't snap. I enjoy telling people in my own special way that they're acting like fucktards.
You have self check-outs in Vegas? See, now you know how horrible the people are in this area. They tried it in a couple of places here, but people were dishonest and they removed them. They were so convenient. I miss them...
Yet again you shatter my perfect "CSI" image of Vegas. You slay me with these rants - of which I anxiously await more of. Rage against it all my love, rage against it all. Now...go find ya a woman to bang up against a wall and release all this (not quite pent up) frustration.
Coming out of lurkdom to say you have a new fan....this was GREAT. Oh, and i agree w/Nick...a punch in the throat is always a good universal translater.
Rage, my friend. Rage.
Name it, own it, love it, embrace it.
When I'm in any kind of store line and someone is all up in my space, I reflexively stick my elbows out, sometimes catching someone in a ribcage or breast. Whoops! Too bad, get your shit out of my face. And stop scowling at me; you're the douchebag who interrupted my consumer activity.
Todd, you make me laugh. I appreciate you so much, and you're passive-aggressiveness.
THere's something about Vegas which has taught me to politely rage. For example, there was some asshole working at Cappriotti's bitching about customers because we were there at closing (yea, i know it's irritating, keep your mouth shut- I just want a sandwich and you're getting paid). So I politely called him over and told him that he was inappropraite. The other customers thanked me. The guy apologized.
I don't think I could've resisted saying something to the guy in Starbucks.
As for the invader of personal space, I can't help but believe this guy was Russian. They totally do that in Russia.
I've noticed no one's giving the wave anymore, too. I think it's the growing sense of entitlement in this country.
In Italy, it's not considered impolite to stare. The first few months I was there I kept coming to the brink of fisticuffs with every moped driving punk I came across until someone pointed out that in Italy it is a compliment to be stared at like a drooling stalker.
You're so gangsta.
I'm totally feeling you on the invasion of space thing. It's like, HI, I'm a person, not a pillar or a wall. Look up and see - I have a head! They practically lean right up against us!
Oh yeah, and I concur, stop going to Walmart. I've been Walmart-free for about 6 months now and I'm much happier for it. The small drug stores like Longs and Rite Aid are a little more expensive, but a lot less noxious.
This morning two people thanked me for holding the door for them at the coffee shop and one person waved when I stopped to let her cross the street. That's so very rare.
My friend's advice for Wal Mart...if someone gets too close, rip an incredibly obnoxious fart. She's been known to clear out an aisle or two using that method.
How can I help you with your crankiness, Toddy?
The last time I gave the little "thank you" wave to the guy who let me in, he gave me the finger. What the fuck was that for?
I don't get people.....
Wow, not sure what's more shocking.. the rage inside my buddy Todd or the fucking font size. You go with your bad self and have a super weekend.
Awesome move, don't feel bad. We have all had our "over the limit" moments and it helps to get the poison out.
I went on a little vacation. I missed you. Don't wanna talk about how weird that is, just thought you should know.
vast,
so true. So very true.
bawlz,
you're one of the good people in this city, kid.
madmeer,
oh, they are. We had hicks and So. Baps in Louisville.
livi,
I miss you. The Sopranos is really good this season.
nick,
I left before I had the chance to strike him.
writepro,
I used to watch Elimidate and think "I can't get one date and this fuckwad has four.
cherry,
I think he needed a fix and was in a hurry to meet his dealer.
randi,
sometimes people act as if they want me to snap.
kat,
the self check-outs have to be monitored.
le chat,
I do need to find that woman.
chiromum,
no need to dwell in lurkdom. I won't hurt you.
fritz,
I'm passive aggressive? Really?
Hope you enjoyed your vacation.
shannon,
the polite rage always backfires on me. The person usually explodes in anger and I explode right back.
jj,
yes, everyone is owed everything. It's becoming tiresome.
solethoughts,
no, but you know it was blasting from their car speakers just moments before.
cold hands,
I love the boobie shots.
claudia,
will you be my beeyotch?
cladeedah,
I think I will cut down on the Wal-Marting.
hoochie,
I almost don't know how to react to politeness anymore.
trix,
if YOU were twitching and yelling "Cocksucker" I'd be intrigued.
little ol',
calling me Toddy is a good start. I like that.
megan,
Be glad you don't have testicles.
egan,
I cannot explain the font size. It didn't show up that way as a draft.
mung,
I feel guilty, but I totally enjoyed it.
anna,
I think it's sweet that you missed me. Thanks.
You know, not getting the wave kills me. I feel like ramming my car into theirs afterward.
"I used to watch Elimidate and think "I can't get one date and this fuckwad has four."
Take heart in knowing that they get all worked up only because of the competition and that they ditch the jekrs as soon as the camera lights go off.
They confirm as much, now that the show has the follow-up date segment.
Thanks, I needed that! (Laughter I mean)
First off, at Starbucks, I would have grabbed the guys phone and asked, "The bitch" if she wanted her loving phone companion to bring home a Mochaccino or something and thank her for the entertainment!
For the guy invading your space at Walmart? I think I would have grabbed his basket and started scanning the items myself. "I'm sorry sir, would you like me to help you with that?"
The only reason why such people are alive is because it is illegal to kill them. God knows I have wanted to scream at such people at the Walmart closest to me, but I'm fairly sure they don't understand English.
And I love Nick's comment, throat jab for the fucking win.
The only reason why such people are alive is because it is illegal to kill them. God knows I have wanted to scream at such people at the Walmart closest to me, but I'm fairly sure they don't understand English.
And I love Nick's comment, throat jab for the fucking win.
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