Sweetest of Sweets: Grocery Shopping

There are few things in this world that I truly hate. A few are stupid people, spending money, and mind numbing activities. All of these are included in the chore I had to do tonight, grocery shopping. I generally try to avoid crowded stores during the daytime as I'm afraid I will lose all patience and end up in jail for beating someone to death with a can of corn. You can usually find me in Wal Mart at around 1 am with a cart full of Diet Mountain Dew and a lot of boxes marked organic. I shop at most once a month. I buy in bulk. If there is ever a bad storm or nationwide famine we would survive at my house for months on green beans and cous cous. I go in sweatpants, a t-shirt hanging to my knees, and a ponytail. I usually look very angry and unwelcoming. This is intentional. I am not there to make friends. If I see someone that I know I usually try to avoid them. If you see me, please do not talk to me. I am a woman on a mission. I have frozen veggies I'm trying to get home before they thaw. The worst of the Wally World chatters are those that I don't know. I have no idea why they talk to me. I do my best to look mean. But still they attempt to engage me with witty banter such as, "wow, that sure is a lot of soda" or "are all of those pickles for you?" No. I am raising an army of partially pickled zombie warriors to kill all people below a minimum IQ. And buddy, I don't think you're gonna make it. A woman once asked me if I had a pet rabbit when she saw carrots and broccoli in my cart. Hey lady, people can eat vegetables too. You should try a few sometime, fatass. But the worst part of it all is the line. Dear God, the line! I'll admit some of my frustration here is my own fault. Maybe I am a little too particular about the way my purchases are bagged. I do try to make it simple for the cashier though. I seperate my cans, frozen foods, crushables, etc. Any reasonable person could decipher my system. Unfortunately, all those people must be on the day shift. I see that the effort I made to get a not-so-crushed bag of tortilla chips was in vain as the cashier chunks a jar of olives right on top of my chips. I'm too tired to say anything. At this point I've been in the store an hour and a half. Go ahead. Put the shampoo in with the lettice. Dent every one of the cans. Just get me the hell outta here. I pay and I'm out the door. Free! I'm free! Just then realize I've forgotten the dog food. Fuck it. The dog can have the olives.