The Way The Cookie Crumbles

Got myself a side blog, for cases where I don’t want to put up an entire blog and just a little note.

Imagine this: You have a beautiful home, three bedrooms, a bathroom, nice living room and kitchen, and even an attic and a beautiful garden. Then imagine coming home to your beautiful place and find out that people broke in and ‘painted’ the walls and floors with everything that was in your fridge.

Such was the case of a family member.

Some idiot(s) decided it just wasn’t enough to steal their computer and some other little tidbits, but they wanted to really shake things up and took everything from the fridge and stained the walls, the floors. They poured milk in the television, yes in the television, threw raw eggs, ketchup, chocolate deserts against the walls.

They even put a coke bottle in the microwave and turned it on.

While the family stayed at others; professionals started cleaning the house. It took them two weeks to clean the place and they’re still working on the floors because that was the hardest part.

1. What the hell?!
2. Why?!
3. If you’re going to steal stuff, why not just steal the stuff and not paint walls and floors with food.

They told me that this has been going on for a couple of weeks now. It already happened in 12 homes, my family members were just the next in line.

Why on earth would someone do this? I don’t get it. What possible gratification can someone get by totally destroying someone’s house. I hope that they will find the people responsible and punish them severely.

Guys will always be guys

Me: Did you see the new Lindsay Lohan photos, you know, the ones where she’s nekkid?
Friend: Lindsay Lohan did a nude?
Me: Yeah, new issue of New York Magazine. She does Marilyn Monroe.
Friend: Dude, where?
Me: Dude, look it up yourself.

(five minute silence)

Me: Still here?
Friend: That’s hot!
Me: You didn’t just go all Paris Hilton on me, and you hate Lindsay Lohan!
Friend: Dude!
Me: What?
Friend: It’s BOOBS
Me: o_0 Typical

As I was reading CookieBitch’s latest blog post, it got me thinking of my own Grocery Shopping Adventures. We don’t have talking machines here, we have something far worse; people. All colors, all shapes, all sizes. I do not like people, there’s only a few I really like and even then I’m awkward around them, let alone touch me. Only the ones I really, really like can try and be that brave.

Unfortunately for me, the people at the grocery store have the tendency to touch, especially the old, the fugly and the stinking drunk. Yes I mean that literal. And I have always had the pleasure of standing either in front of them in the check out line, or behind them. Either way it is a real kicker; if you’re not trying to suppress your gagging because of the smell in front of you, you are trying to fend off the toucher behind you.

A little while ago I got stuck between both. I had a drunken toucher behind me and a stinking drunk in front of me. I have no idea how the fuck I ended up in between because I had seen them enter the store just before I myself walked in the store. Granted, I didn’t know at the time that they were drunk or that they would stink or be touchy, but they were in rags and rags in my part of the neighborhood usually means drunk.

My suspicions were confirmed when I saw them both go for the booze line (which is freakishly close to the baby food) and knew that I had to stay away from them until they had either left the store or were already in the checkout line.

I grabbed the stuff I needed and did a complete walk through of the store to make sure they were gone; I was not about to get a close encounter of the drunk kind again. Luckily they were nowhere to be seen and I trotted off to the checkout counter. Thinking that I was safe, I stood in line and started putting my stuff on the treadmill (yes, I know it is actually called a conveyor belt).

What I feared happened; a horrendous smell entered my nostrils and I had to use all my strength to just start smiling, after all, “smiling suppresses the gagging reflex”. I quickly finished putting my stuff on the treadmill and turned around. I took in a deep breath and then I saw the other one.

How the fuck did I end up standing between the two? I made sure that they were nowhere in the store before I moved to the checkout counter. Was this karma? I had bad thoughts about the two and ended up between them. Must be karma. Well fuck that!

I looked at the girl behind the register and she could see my discomfort, unfortunately, she herself was in somewhat of the same position. She had no way out either. She had the smell being breathed on her, but she couldn’t just get out from behind the counter without getting a lot of looks, not to mention her boss was standing right next to her. So she just sat there with her hand over her nose and mouth and waited impatiently for Stinky to take out the coins one by friggin’ one out of the pouch he called a wallet.

After Stinky paid he stepped away and the checkout girl breathed a sigh of relief, as did I, while she checked my stuff. Then the worst thing yet happened. Stinky came back and stepped behind me to give something to Touchy. I nearly flew over the counter and on the checkout girl’s lap letting out a very audible ‘Eeww’ to show my discomfort.

I was embarrassed as hell that I had even let it out because I usually suppress my discomfort for the greater good of not being yelled at, but at that moment I couldn’t give a flying fuck. Stinky was standing behind me, Stinky was touching Touchy, and they were both touching me. That alone gives me the right to show my discomfort.

Luckily both Stinky and Touchy nearly flew apart when I let that ‘eeww’ out and Stinky told Touchy that he’d wait outside for him. I took my sweet time packing up the groceries to make sure the both of them were out of the store before I got out myself.

I walked outside and an old lady walked up beside me and said that she would have reacted the same way I did. All I could mumble out was “need. shower” and walked away. Somewhere behind me I could hear the woman say something to the likes of “poor thing”.

Yes poor thing indeed.