Monday, June 4, 2007

A Letter to Shoppers Concerning Personal Boundaries

Dear Stupid shaved orangutans trained to buy things,

Get the hell back from me in line before I pick up my entire buggy and start clubbing you with it until it shatters into pieces and I use the pieces to kill you!

What is your problem with the line at the supermarket? Why do you think it's necessary that I feel your meaty, ho-ho breath on the back of my neck? Can you not see that we are, in fact, lined up in front of the cash register? We are adults, we should all understand that everyone will be served in the order that we individually concluded the "gathering" phase of our trip and lined up for the "paying" phase. Believe me, if I could cut in line I would. I don't, so that means that it's not allowed, hence taboo, hence back the fuck off. Your Cheetos aren't going to spoil during your wait.

I have a very simple philosophy when it comes to personal space: If you are close enough behind me for me to elbow you in the throat, then you are too close. I am always flabbergasted when people don't show the same natural aversion to being that close to someone. I don't want to be elbowed in the throat, so, I practice the preventative measure of placing myself out of elbow range. The same goes for children but it's not my throat I want to protect. For them it's preventing the "Shaolin Palm Strike" to my man tackle. Either way I figure 3 or 4 feet will place me out of their "no-fly" zone and keep me from having to clutch my windpipe or bend over to gather my nuts and berries after they've kicked over my basket.

Apparently I'm in the minority since I went to the supermarket twice this last weekend and once I felt a wet cough on the back of my neck and the other time, well, I'm pretty sure some old guy touched my ass. Hey, Walmart! Want people to like shopping at your store? Don't move the shoes closer to the sporting goods, I don't mind walking, just try to keep the molestation to a minimum if you can, thanks. That shower rape vibe is probably hurting sales a little bit.

Another thing that churns my butter (wait, is that an angry euphemism or a sexy one?).

Fine, another thing that really pisses me off is the fucking kids all over the place. When did the grocery store become a goddamned ball pit? Why do I have to swerve and dodge to avoid these random "Superstore Orphans" all the time? If you want to take your kid to the store, fine, whatever, but don't take them there just to dump them off. A chain store is not a nanny. I know that you got pregnant young and that you wanted to be a make-up girl at Dillard's and now instead you actually have to work to feed your kid, but guess what? It didn't work out the way you had planned it in your 90210 Trapper Keeper! If you want to be a negligent parent do it away from me. Just leave your kid in the bathtub at home with the door locked or something. Don't bring him here and tell him to go "look around."

Now, I'm not talking about a good parent whose kid got away from them. I was a kid, I understand that they are faster than adults, and sneaky, and mean. I don't even care if the kid goes apeshit and runs into me, just as long as I know you are going to beat him within an inch of his life once you catch him. Hell, that's entertaining.

No, I'm talking about those parents that let their kids wander around until they are dry humping my leg and all I here is, "Jimmy. Jimmy, no honey. No, Jimmy. No. No, we don't do that. We don't do that to people. Jimmy, no. Jimmy. Jimmy. Jimmy. Jimmy." Jimmy is about to get his little ass shoved into this prefabricated armoire display! Get. Your. Fucking. Kid.

On second thought, I probably wouldn't hurt that kid, it's not his fault that he thinks his middle name is "Don't Touch." I think I'd rather hurl his androgynous, 90 lb. father into the Budweiser display that looks like a football goal. Or maybe throw him up that hanging inflatable Shrek's ass.

It's people like that, the people that think the market is an extension of their house, that make it hard to acquire the most basic needs. Things like milk and bread and popcorn and beef jerky. They just make me crazy! I want to run up to the two ladies fighting over the last box of cake mix and kick in between their heads, knocking them both out, like Neo on the rooftop fighting the SWAT guys.

It's getting ridiculous and I just don't understand. All you have to do is back off. Give me and everyone else room to move and room to breath. Just because we are in a corporate machine doesn't mean we have to meander around like sheep. You're a human being, or a reasonable attempt at one, and you should respect yourself and others enough to know when you've crossed the line, literally.

And get your damn hand off of my ass!

Oh, no that's ok, I understand. I looked like your grandson from the back. That's ok people make mis…Wait! WHAT?

God I hate this place!

Chiggie Von Richthofen
The Man Rocking Back and Forth in Line Mumbling Something About This Being a Bad Dream