just shoot me

I have to do something today I hate. I don't mean like laundry hate or dishes hate, I mean loathe to the core of my being to the point that it makes me suicidal.

I have...

to go...

shopping.

Grocery shopping to be specific.

Holiday grocery shopping to really bling it up.

I hate grocery shopping in general, but you add a holiday to it, holy shit. I have noticed that people here are generally jerk-offs, but some switch is clicked inside their empty heads that turns on the uber-shithead in all of them.

Here is a snapshot of life on Aisle 4 during Thanksgiving shopping:

The 400 year old woman, who is already naturally crotchity, will scowl even more and will look straight at you while running her cart over your foot, farting for emphasis. Bleach blonde, dressed like a used up hooker mom will bring extra super bratty, stinky, loud, nasty, rude children with them, letting them scream at the top of their lungs while fighting with the sibling sitting in the seat who is grabbing boxes of rice off the shelves and throwing them on the floor at the same time that the 9 year old decides to take the extra cart the retarded mom thought would be a good idea to use and runs down the crowded aisle taking out the blue hair who just ran over your foot and dropped an assbomb to rival Hiroshima. Then, uber-breeders' size 0 male pimple loving teenager will stop in the middle of the aisle to take a text from their baby momma, holding up their size 55 pants by the crotch and flipping their greasy, hasn't been washed or combed since birth, hair over one shoulder. To add to the fun, the stockboy, who has no food to stock since the store refuses to restock shelves, will stand in the aisle with a giant empty laundry bin on wheels full of empty boxes, talking on his walkie talkie to an equally busy dumbass in the empty stock room about who is bringing the liquor to the high school that night.

Fast forward to the check-out lines, which management decided only 4 needed to be open for the 50000000 people trying to check out. The dipshit checking you out has no idea how to read, let alone use the scanner, and has to call some female in khaki to walk her fat ass from her smoking break to cancel out yet another mistake. In front of you is a women who has brought a truck load of coupons, most of which are out-of-date, causing the callback of aforemention khaki ass, who while have to argue with the coupon queen as to why they can't take a coupon that expired back in 2003. On top of that, she pulls out her checkbook, and after asking three times who to make the check out to, will have her pen run out of ink, causing a domino effect of "who has a pen?" from check-out to check-out. Finally, when I get to check-out myself, the asshole behind me will decided that he needs to push his cart all the up to my butt, as if to expedite the whole trip he must push me through the line. He has no idea how much I want him dead.

Now, out of the store, I have to dodge the old lady who hasn't been able to see since the 40's as she runs the stop sign, the hooker mom who can't see out her back window as she is backing up, and the asshole who figures that the cart corral, which is right next to his car, is too far away to put his cart into and, instead, puts his cart up against my car door. I get into my car, and wish all of them dead. Or at least an outbreak of painful boils all over their privates.

All I wanted was some cream of mushroom soup.

And it isn't even Christmas yet.

Shit.

Peace, Love and (i ain't thankful enough for anything to deal with this crap) Zombies \IiiI