Monday, June 17, 2013

Supermarket Sweep

I'd like to tell you a story.  A story about how I just about went to jail yesterday.

Husband and I went to an unnamed retailer (because getting sued seems like a bad way to finish this post) that rhymes with ball-mart, to pick up some household items and other odds and ends.  We walked up to a normal line, one or two people ahead of us, and put down one of those little separator bars so we could separate our orders from that of other people.

I was busily putting items onto the conveyor belt, and the woman in line in front of us, who had been so busy sucking the tongue out of her boyfriend's face to move so I could even get the separator bar, begins picking up our stuff and looking at it.

Let me repeat that.

This skinny blonde bitch begins SHOPPING OUR ITEMS.  ON THE CONVEYOR BELT.




Apparently, this is a new shopping aisle.  Let's call it the "Whatever other people have already picked up to buy because who gives a shit" aisle.

Anyone who knows how supremely fussy I can be can imagine what happened next.  Of course, I snapped like a professional wrestler's femur. 

I got Husband's attention, loudly so she could hear (frankly, so everyone in line could hear), and he tried telling me it was no big deal.  He then immediately realized his mistake when he saw the fires of war burning in my eyes.  Something had to be done, or one of us was going to the hospital and the other one was going to go to jail, and he knew the other guy wasn't going to need bail money.

It was about this time that this waifish little thing who I could have broken over my knee like a twig realized that Mike was physically restraining me.  Was there any sheepish apology?  Nope.  She just flounced off, leaving her poor, uncomfortable boyfriend to pay for her items.

Who the hell does that?  Who shops someone else's items when they're already on the conveyor belt without a word?  Who has the audacity, the utter gall to think they are above the simplest etiquette, or hell, the lack of intelligence?  Because that's 99% common sense.  Even four year olds know not to touch other people's items.

Note that nowhere does it say that strangers should be touching your shit.  Ever.

I was fuming as Husband ushered me out of the store.  Is this a thing now?  Can I feel free to shop other people's stuff?

What really kills me is all of this could have been avoided if she had simply come to me and said, "Hey, I've never seen that (product in question) before.  Can I look at it?"

And guess what?  I'd have said yes.  I'd have even told her how I liked it.  But then I wouldn't have a blog post.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Tutoring, And Why I Don't Blog

Well, let's answer that second part.  I don't blog because....

...I'm lazy.

There, we've got it out in the open.

Anyway, I've been tutoring since February, and frankly, some of the funniest shit ever has come out of these kids mouths.  But today, today I think I won it.

9 year old boy:  I don't play with toys any more.  (he had this really self satisfied air about him when he said this, and because I still play with my toys and I'm 30ish, I found I needed to do something about this)

Me:  Don't you have a Playstation?

9 year old boy:  Yeah.  But that's not a toy.

Me:  Can't you buy those at Toys R Us?

9 year old boy:  Ye- *stops right there, giving me a death glare*

I know that I felt erudite and urbane.  I also know that he gave me a look like he felt like I was being a bitch. 

So we all win!

Okay, there might have been a faux surprised, wide eyed, hand in front of open mouth mocking look in there when I showed him how I am much smarter than him, so the being a bitch opinion might not have been too far off.

I had to explain to him that he's NINE.  Not having toys at the age of nine doesn't make you grown up.  It makes you deprived.  I would lose my shit if someone too my My Little Ponies away, or my stuffed Cactaur, or the stuffed Captain America I quietly promise the rest of my life to when Husband is not within earshot.

So yeah, I'm teaching kids to hate their private tutors one child at a time.  I think there's a PSA in there somewhere.