Montana bound
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2003-11-26 06:17:51 (UTC)

More retail-types

A few more people who I think should be smashed over the
head repeatedly with a golf club, slugged in the gut with
a bowling ball, then left to rot with the buzzard food and
cow shit in the ditch on the side of the path.

First, these 19th century cock-suckers who want "paper
bags." Listen, Julian Barberie Ann Young Smith, paper has
its uses. It's great for writing/printing on, and you can
make some pretty cool shit out of it with that paper mashe
stuff, if that's what you're into. For bagging, however,
it is NOT. That idea worked great along with Model Ts and
cotton gins, but this is the fucking 21st century, for
Christ's sake! Plastic is what the masses use now, and
those of us who have to crack open this pathetic archaic
excuse of a grocery container don't deserve to have to go
so far out of our way to do a job we hate for some asshole
who's contributing a whole two dollars and forty three
cents to our paychecks. Either get with the times, or get
the fuck out.

Second, though I love the idea of an attractive woman
driving a huge truck, such a vehicle is NOT a suitable
freight method for groceries. It's bad enough I have to
put on my jacket and gloves and haul my ass out of the
warm store to help your worthless hide take three god damn
bags of groceries to your car. When the lip of the bed of
your truck is nearly as tall or taller than I am, it
shouldn't be up to me to lift 30 pound Butterballs into
the bed and likely seriously injure myself in the
process. This is Mormonville, minivans are on sale. If
you have to have something with 4-wheel drive, don't bring
the damn thing to the store with you. If you've got one
of these ozone-devouring machines in the first place, then
you definitely don't have enough money to afford anything
other than a piece of shit little coupe or something for a
second car. It's not that hard to figure out. When you
go shopping, TAKE THE DAMN COUPE!

Third, these Moms who can fit more into a small "bean"
cart--the ones with the little car things on the front
where the kids can sit. Honestly, it's the stupidest
fucking thing I've ever seen, and since they can't stack
onto each other like regular carts, it's a real pain in
the ass to haul them inside--especially when some asshole
decides they've done enough work hauling out the thirty
eight tons of food they need for their truly apallingly
large Mormon family and leaves the damn thing at the far
end of the fucking parking lot.

Anyway, as I was saying, these Moms who can fit more into
one of those small carts than I can into two regular sized
carts. I really don't understand the physics involved in
this one. I think they've discovered some secret known
only to mothers through which they can create a vortex in
the cart which will pull in as many groceries as they need
it to so they can fit their seventeen truckloads into a
kiddie cart. And of course, after I've loaded up half the
store's supply of shopping baskets with their henious load
of loot, I of course have to help them out with it.

And finally, again with the Moms who have you haul out a
seperate cart full of their groceries because the cart
they have is already holding their three dozen kids who
more closely resemble sleep-deprived cats on speed than
anything even remotely human. If you know you're not
going to be able to handle the kids and groceries both at
the same time, don't take the little shits shopping with
you! I know for a fact that half your load is just random
candy and cereal bought to appease their dirty and
grubbing little hands and whiny voices screaming for this
or that. Leave the little pricks at home. If they live
through drinking the turpentine, they'll know better next
time. Survival of the fittest. The kid who knows the
stuff under the cupboard is bad for you lives, the other
stupid little shits don't. The world at large isn't going
to miss them, and you will have increased the general
population's intelligence exponentially by removing their
detractment from the accomplishment thereof.

Yes, I'm an angry teenager. Yes, I'm a callous and
cynical bastard. Yes, I speak of others' lives as if they
meant about as much to me as a piece of passing
driftwood. Though I may not actually wish them dead, that
truly is an accurate description of my total apathy for
their well-being so long as they are not a part of my
life. If you don't like that, tough.

Jessica's got a long way to go yet. Eat your heart out,