My worst nightmare came true last night while I was at my local grocery store. I hate to name which one, because normally this store is a nice place shop at, so you can imagine the store as you wish. I will give you one clue in saying it was not Walmart. In fact, I wish I had gone to my beloved Walmart last night, but I did not since I was in a rush to go on a Santitas run (my favorite corn chip) last night before any wintry weather hit.
I know–priorities.
So I guess I got what I deserved.
It all began almost a year ago when I was standing in line to be checked out of said grocery store. The tall, skinny man in a muscle shirt in front of me had two items he was purchasing that day: 1.) a case of beer, and 2.) a Playboy magazine. Personally, I would have never noticed the Playboy magazine if it weren’t for the cashier who oooohed and ahhhhhed over it, proclaiming: “That’s a good one. I’ve got this magazine. Good choice.“
I almost threw up in my mouth when I heard the cashier get so excited over the magazine. It wasn’t even just what he said, but the way he looked when he said it. Heck, I think it was just the way he looked period. Like he hadn’t taken a shower for a week, washed his uniform, nor shaven his face. I mean, we were in a grocery store. You know, that place you take your kids. That place that sells food. I almost flipped the cashier the bird, but the cashier’s boss (aka manager) saved me the effort when he offered to check me out. No pun intended.
The manager must have seen the look on my face when all this happened. I’ve now dubbed this cashier The Porn Guy and I always avoid him like the plague. Honestly, I thought he had been fired a couple months ago until last night when guess who appeared as I got ready to pay for my groceries…
Burly men wearing black leather with multiple tattoos on Harleys don’t scare me like this sicko does.
To make matters worse last night as I sent my Santitas, yogurt, cheese, and celery down the motorized belt The Porn Guy began hacking up something serious from the nether regions of his sinuses. Hack. Hack. Bare hand over mouth. Hack. Hack. Wipe nose with hairy bare hand. Hack Hack. Touch my celery. Hack. Hack. Rub bare hands all over the card swiper. Hack. Hack. Ask me if I need help to my car. Hack. Hack.
Needless to say, I felt like taking a shower with my celery after last night’s incident.
Last night’s Nightmare on Main Street is the very reason I am so excited about Google’s new Buzz feature–Buzz has the potential to warn unsuspecting customers before they enter such establishments. Like this funny buzz I saw yesterday on Google Maps as I was running around the metroplex:
Yep, Google Buzz and I are going to get along just fine. Passive aggressors unite!
PS: I’d like to know how come I didn’t get chosen for the K-Y Jelly Mommy Blogger Tour, besides the fact I didn’t sign up. Obviously these dudes don’t know about the wealth of knowledge I have after my encounter with that old man on the airplane.
PPS: Really want to know which grocery store I was at last night? Well, if you followed me on Twitter, you’d know.
