Lisa Gerardy's Blog, page 7

Mass Shootings: It’s not Left or Right; It’s Life or Death.

I’m a card-carrying Democrat, but lately I’m more of a centrist.  When it comes to mass shootings and most other issues, I think everyone should be a centrist because the big issue with our country is that everyone is fighting and worried about being right, or correct, and they are not solving anything.  In my ever so humble opinion, the first issue we need to solve is school shootings, and all mass shootings, really.  I think we could have solved this years ago if it had not become such a partisan issue. Liberals think it’s a gun situation, not a mental health issue. Conservatives think it’s a mental health issue and not a gun issue.  Really, if we actually think about it and don’t just put on our red or blue shirts and go into battle mode, it is both and then some.  There are multiple things that have brought us to this point.

Competition society – Everything is a competition in America. Sports, career, money, cars, grades, likeability are just a few of the things where everyone wants to be better.  It’s great to be a winner in America, and it really sucks to be a loser.  This starts early with PE in school, soccer leagues, cheerleading tryouts, etc.  When kids lose they feel bad about themselves.  Even when everyone gets a participation trophy, kids still know they lost.
Crazy guns for civilians – Yes, your average Joe or Jane can buy an assault rifle in America, either legally or illegally. Who decided that people not actively engaged in a military battle needed these guns? Are they for hunting?  Have the deer started firing back and you need more powerful guns? It’s ridiculous to be able to kill so quickly and easily.
Sudafed and cars – Make guns as hard to buy as Sudafed and cars. I have allergies.  I buy a lot of Sudafed products.  Where I live, you have to have a driver’s license for the state you are buying the product in.  When we first moved here, my husband was not allowed to buy Sudafed because he had not gotten his new license yet.  You also have to sign for it after having your license scanned.  They do this because there is a HOUSEHOLD limit of the amount you can buy.  Buying a car requires a lot of documentation, too.  You need insurance, you need proof of employment, you need good credit.  You can’t just go down to Walmart and buy a Chevy. You shouldn’t be able to buy a gun that easily either.
Mental health – I don’t know why some of my liberal friends are so offended by the notion that maybe people who shoot dozens of people might not be right in the head. Let’s just take a look at this last gunman, Nikolas Cruz.  He tortured and killed animals.  I don’t mean he went hunting with his favorite uncle. I mean he threw rocks at a squirrel until it died. For those of you who do not read or watch the news or listen to anyone speak ever, animal abuse is a big red flag.  It is seen consistently in those who murder humans, those we call sociopaths or psychopaths.  They start out by killing animals as kids.  Nikolas did this.  You bet your sweet ass it’s a mental health issue.  How many sane people would premeditate a mass murder? They premeditate this shit, you guys.  They don’t just get really mad and shoot someone right then.  Maybe some anti-psychotics and a good long stay at a mental facility would have helped.  Who knows?
Harassment – Everything is harassment now. So, even when we do know that someone is troubled and a possible threat, law enforcement often can’t do anything until that person actually hurts someone.  They can’t closely monitor them because that would be harassment.
Empathy – Instead of seeing each other as the opposition, or hurdles to jump over to reach an ever important goal, we need to see each other as people. We are all people who want to be safe, healthy, and happy.  We need to stop putting each other in little boxes. Most of us don’t really fit in them anyway.

We all need to think outside our political boxes if we are going to solve this. This is not about being right or left; this is about living or dying. For real.  It is time to see people as people.  Let’s stop killing each other and start helping each other.  Please.

Mama and the Manchild – Olympic Gold Medal Edition

The manchild and I were eating breakfast and watching the Today Show, and they were interviewing Olympic snowboard gold medal winner Chloe Kim. The interviewer mentioned that Chloe’s mom said that she should go to college now, and Chloe made a face.

Me:  She doesn’t want to go to college.  You know, not everyone has to go to college.  You and I are the college types because we like books and words and all of that stuff.

Son: Right. Basically, I go to college because I don’t have anything else going on.

Me: Exactly. If you were an Olympic gold medalist, you could live off of your endorsements.

Son: I would totally whore myself out.

“Sergio, Nintendo wants you in a commercial.” OK.

“Sergio, Mountain Dew needs you in an ad.”  Sure.

“Sergio, Pabst Blue Ribbon wants you to be in a commercial.” Sure!

Me: Really? You’d even do an ad for nasty cheap beer?

Son: Yep.  I would have no pride.

Me: You’d end up in cheesy cameo spots in bad movies, too.

Son: Yes.  They’d be any movie with Amy Schumer.

I’d be there like, “Hi, I’m Sergio, gold medalist…”

Amy Schumer would say, “MY VAGINA blah, blah, blah!”

Me: Yep. That is pretty much her act – dick jokes and, well, vagina jokes.

Can you tell that we are not big Amy Schumer fans?

Stepping Into “The Void”

The boy did a great job with this! If you like Star Wars, Disney, and VR, you will love this.

Sergio Has Issues

I just got back from vacation and I…well I’m not gunna lie I am having the after vacation blues. You know when you have just had a week or two of pure bliss where you don’t have to worry about any responsibilities or problems you may have and then you get back and reality slowly starts to set in again? Well, thats where I’m at. However, I have had plenty of time to think about my time away and all the amazing things I got to experience. I got to go to one of my favorite places on planet Earth: Orlando, Florida. This former swamp that has been the magic capital of the world since the early 70’s holds a special place in my heart and has ever since I was a child. I got to share this trip with my dad and my girlfriend and we got to experience…

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The Mad Dash for Depo

Based on the way I go running into the store with frazzled 1975 Ogilvie Home Perm hair, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Kroger people called the local homeless shelter on my behalf. Today was no different.  We need to go back to last week so I can explain.

So, I have been getting the Depo shot for a few years now.  No, I did not gain weight or become crazy.  I was already chubby and irritable before starting Depo. The only side effect I have had is that I get cranky and bloated when I am due for the next shot.  Last week was week 11 and I have to get them every 12 weeks.  So, since I felt all PMSy, I called in my refill on Friday, planning to get my shot at the clinic in Kroger on Monday morning.  So, this morning, when I woke up with sore boobs and a big desire to hit people, I knew I had better get my ass over to get my shot.

I recently found out that the clinic has a sign-in ahead of time function on the website.  I had never used it so I ASSUMED (bad idea) that I could choose a time.  Nope. I entered my information and the computer told me to be there in 45 minutes.

SHIT!!

I was still in my robe and drinking coffee.  I was about to hop on Facebook and say hi to all of you.  Instead, I was in a mad dash.  I work from home.  I am not used to being in a hurry.

I gulped down half of my coffee so I could drive with both eyes opened.  Then, I banged on my son’s door to remind him he had school today.  He yelled that he had his alarm set.

Next, I ran to my room and pulled proper undergarments from my drawers, remembering that normal people wear bras in public.  Well, mostly just women wear bras, but some men really do need them, too.  I picked up a pair of new short athletic socks, thinking I would wear sneakers.

Then, I ran to my closet and picked out jeans, an overly washed black t-shirt and a sweater that was too nice to be worn with an overly washed t-shirt.  I looked down at my sneakers and remembered how Clinton on What Not To Wear said that only Jerry Seinfeld should wear sneakers with jeans.  So, I slipped on my best manly black loafers over my white athletic socks.  I was ready to be a tourist in Florida with this look.

Then, I looked in the mirror.  Oh, my hair!  Crap! I had worn my hair curly yesterday, and as per protocol, it looked like birds had nested on my head as I slept. So, I did what you should never do with curly hair, I ran a comb through it.  Now, it was frizzy.  I didn’t have time to do anything about that, so I slapped a headband on, smeared some lip gloss on my lips and grabbed my purse and coat.

As I was backing out of the driveway, I saw the school bus go by.  I knew what that meant.  I proceeded slowly down the street and then stopped behind the bus.  I waited impatiently for the kids to get on the bus.  They did, and I thought all was well when I realized the mom, wearing flip-flops and a winter coat was standing on the bus step chatting with the driver.

FORFUCKSSAKE!!!  They chatted for approximately five years, or two minutes in real time.  I considered jumping out of my car and punching both of them while yelling, “My boobs hurt and I need my shot!” When the mom finally walked her ass up to her front door, she turned around and looked at me.  I gave her my best, “you just narrowly avoided an ass beating” look.

I screeched into the Kroger parking lot and parked by the pharmacy.  I went jogging in the door with 10 minutes to spare.  I had to stop at the pharmacy to get the Depo before heading to the clinic nextdoor to get the shot.  Lucky for me, there was no line at the pharmacy.  I had the young pharmacist laughing about my appointment making disaster.  He probably wanted to call the Vidal Sassoon hotline about my hair.

The good news is when I got to the clinic I was right on time. I did not have to wait with all of the people who looked like they had the flu.  The nurse took me right back and gave me a shot.  He was very calm and I was prattling away about my PMS symptoms and the damn school bus etc.  He probably called security and the fashion police as soon as I walked out the door.

And how is your Monday going?

U2, You Two?

So, I was the “responsible adult” who accompanied my husband to his colonoscopy on Monday.  Unfortunately, my husband’s appointment was at 2 in the afternoon.  This was tough for him because he could only “eat” clear liquids for two days.  It was tough for me because I am not an afternoon person.  If I lived a life of riches and leisure, I would nap every day at 2:00. That is when my brain naturally just SLOWS down.

When my husband’s procedure was completed, I met him in the consultation room to talk to the doctor.  The doctor explained the results and that we would hear from him when the “pathology comes back.”  So, we shook hands and began our walk to the door.  As we were walking, the doctor was walking behind us and asked us what I thought was a really strange question.

“Did you two make another album?”

Um.  My afternoon brain was confused by this question.  I answered, “Oh, you don’t want to hear us sing.”

My husband immediately agreed with me, stating we could not sing at all.  Now, he was recently shot up with a big dose of Fentanyl.  I had no such excuse.

The doctor then pointed to my husband’s U2 sweatshirt, the same one he had been wearing ALL DAY.  I looked at him with my need a nap eyes, and said, “OH! You didn’t mean us! I thought you had us confused with another couple.”

Honestly, I’m surprised they didn’t give me a sobriety test right there.  I certainly was a confused “responsible adult.”

On our drive home, my husband and I agreed that we are way more a Captain and Tennille singing couple than a Sonny and Cher type.

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Confusing Matt Lauer News

I turn on the Today show at 7 every morning.  I do this right after spoon feeding my old Maltese and making coffee.  It has been a part of my morning routine for over 12 years, ever since I began working from home.  When I turned on the TV today, the first thing I saw was Matt Lauer’s picture with the word “fired” under it. There were other words, but “fired” was the one that caught my eye. I smiled.  This had to be a joke.  I checked my calendar to see if maybe I had finally hibernated through the cold, gray winter and it was now April 1.

Nope. I knew it was real when Savannah and Hoda reported the news with held back tears in their eyes. I stared in shock.

Some friends of mine said they were not shocked at all. I was.  How did I miss Matt’s creep factor? As a card-carrying member of the sexual abuse survivors club, I pride myself on being able to spot sickos.  I usually notice these things. It’s in their eyes.  For example, Charley Rose has “I sit on park benches with my fly open” eyes. It was just obvious to me.  I never saw that in Matt Lauer.

I posted on my personal Facebook page about it, asking, “Did he have an affair or was he grabbing boobs and butts?”  One of my friends replied that it shouldn’t matter what he did because it was inappropriate either way.  True. Both are inappropriate activities for the workplace, but in my ever so humble opinion, a consensual affair is a divorceable offense, not a fireable one.  My father was fired from a TV station in the 70’s for having an affair with a co-worker.  It’s not the 70’s anymore.  On the other hand, if Matt was groping co-workers, it is good that he was fired.  If he was offering some sort of gain for having sex with him, then it is great that he is gone.  If he was telling dirty jokes, viewing pornography or doing anything else to create a hostile and uncomfortable work environment, then good riddance.  I just hope that NBC actually investigated this claim before just letting him go.

No matter the reason, I will miss seeing Matt Lauer every morning. I loved his interviews.  I always said that if I did something wrong and Matt Lauer wanted to interview me, I would go into hiding.  That man did not accept any BS responses from people.  I about fell off my chair laughing with glee when he interviewed Vice President Pence about the violent protest in Charlottesville and how there were “good people on both sides.”

Now, people may interview Matt in the same way he interviewed others.  They will put him on the spot, make him uncomfortable, try to trip him up.  I will be watching when this happens. I want to see what Matt has to say.

What do you think about Matt Lauer? Are you a Lauer lover like I was, or are you on team saw this coming a mile away?  Let me hear from you in the comments.

 

 

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The Prayer Team Talk

Since I work from home, I eat lunch with my son almost every day. Yesterday, we were sitting at the kitchen table having sandwiches and chips when I decided to ask him about something I heard recently that had me confused.

Me: Hey, have you ever heard of a prayer team?

Son: Prayer TEAM?

Me: Yep. She said team.

Son: No.

Me: I have a lot of questions about a prayer team.

Son: Like?

Me: What kind of jerseys do they wear?  Do they have cheerleaders? Are there referees?

Son: [shaking his head no]

Me: Is there a championship where prayer teams battle it out for God’s response? Does the winning team get a trophy? Do they pour Gatorade over the prayer coach’s head? There would have to be a coach, right?

Son: No, mom. You’ve got it all wrong.

Me: No coach?

Son: No. A prayer team is not an athletic team.

Me: OK

Son:  You know how your husband always refers to his coworkers as his team?  A prayer team works in an office.

[He gets up and points to an imaginary PowerPoint presentation on the wall.]

Son: [using his best corporate manager voice] TEAM!  As you can see, our prayers are down 30% this quarter.  Now, I want everyone on their knees the rest of the week.  We need to get these numbers up.

I laughed and took a sip of my Diet Coke.

Son: [sitting down at the table] Then, I’d probably get sued for sexual harassment for telling my coworkers to get on their knees.

I’m still recovering from shooting Diet Coke out of my nose.

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Liquor Store Adventures: The Return of Mama

If you missed my original post about Mama, please read this first.  Then come back and read this.

We did it again. My adult son and I went to the liquor store in our local grocery store.  It just made sense to do so as we had to go to Kohl’s and pick up lunch at Panera. It was just so damn convenient.

But it was also scary.  As we got out of the car, we both crossed our fingers that Mama would not be working. We just wanted one awkward free visit.

Before we walked into the liquor portion of the store, we looked both ways as though we were crossing a busy street and trying to avoid getting hit by a semi.  No Mama.  There were just two guys stocking wine right outside the doorway.  Big sigh of relief.

I grabbed a bottle of regular Tito’s vodka, the big one, and a small Absolute vodka that was wrapped in blue and silver flip sequins. It was just pretty.  Then, I told my son to grab a bottle of good scotch for my husband.  Well, I drink it, too, so I guess it’s for both of us.

When we were done shopping, we both walked slowly to the cash register, while looking around for Mama.  Our heads were spinning like something out of the Exorcist, just to be sure we weren’t going to suddenly have her in our face saying, “Mama doesn’t judge.” or any of her other catchphrases.

The coast was clear.  The man at the register started to ring us up.  That’s when Mama walked behind the counter.  I held my breath and avoided eye contact as though she were a homicidal male lion.  I thought to myself, “Will she recognize me? Does she know I blogged about her? Will she start talking to me? Do I know enough Spanish to pretend I don’t know English? What if Mama knows Spanish?”

Even though I was in a panic on the inside, I managed to remain calm while I swiped my credit card and signed.  While I was signing, I heard the guy behind the counter ask Mama, “What happened to that Ketal One I told you to stock?” Mama didn’t know what he was talking about. He didn’t call her Mama, oddly enough.

On our way out of the store, I whispered to my son, “We just dodged a bullet.”

He replied, “I know. I felt my butthole tighten when she walked in.  She seemed normal today. Also, I think I know what happened to that Ketal One.”

Mama probably stashed the Ketal One for later, even though she is a Jack girl.

To make a long story short, my son and I should just drive out of our way to go to the real liquor store.

 

Filed under: Snarcasm Tagged: awkwardness, Liquor, Shopping

Christmas Nazis and Thanksgiving Purists

[image error] Your average Christmas Nazi

It’s that time of year when the Christmas Nazis and the Thanksgiving Purists have a pissing contest with the rest of the world. Don’t pretend you don’t know them. They’re not opposing gangs in a Kirk Cameron film about how the liberal media grinds up Christmas trees to make Satanic Bibles. No, they are far more irritating than Kirk. You probably know a few Christmas Nazis or Thanksgiving Purists. They may be your friends or family. You might even be such a person. Hell, you could even fit into both groups.

Despite these scary folks, and the fact that I need to bundle up in 19 layers of wool just to get the mail (and that’s just email), I still love this time of year. I hate the weather with a white hot sparkly passion, though. As a native Floridian who is trapped in the Midwest, I shiver from October through May. Still, even with the ice, snow, and endless clouds, I still love the holidays.

[image error] Christmas Nazi Propaganda

 

The fact that I refer to them as “the holidays” might irritate some people, and those people are Christmas Nazis. They believe that current liberal politics and evil atheists are responsible for “Happy Holidays.” Really, Bing Crosby is more responsible for this all inclusive greeting than President Obama.  Christmas Nazis say things like, “This is MURICA!  We can’t say Happy Holidays because we are a Christian country!” They think they are defending Christmas, or keeping it pure, or some other such bullshit. In reality, they are simply showing that they don’t know how to read a calendar.

[image error] I love ALL of the holidays.

Most of us understand that Christmas is not the only holiday within the four-week period from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day.  There’s also Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, and Saturnalia. Those are just the holidays that are typically celebrated in the U.S. So, saying, “Happy Holidays” is not about excluding Christians, it’s about including everyone. Also, for me, it’s about talking less. As a work from home introvert, I’d rather just cover everything with two words than list all of the holidays with their appropriate happy or merry. I’m pretty sure Santa, Jesus, and Saturn would approve of simply being nice to everyone.

[image error] Truth: I watched this movie way before Thanksgiving.

Some Christmas Nazis are also Thanksgiving Purists. You know, the people who get their panties in a bunch when Christmas items are displayed before the appropriate day. They might as well say, “Thou mustn’t put up thine Christmas tree before Thanksgiving.” Some Thanksgiving Purists get quite enraged about seeing Christmas decorations before turkey day. They post about this major crime on social media sites, some people blog about it, and others talk about it on TV. Some of them actually tell others when they are allowed to put up Christmas trees, lights, and other holiday decorations. It’s like they have some sort of Asshole’s Guide to the Holidays book, along with a color-coded calendar that they refer to. I would like to send people who are upset by seeing Christmas decorations in November on an all expense paid trip to a cave in the Middle East. This way they can get away from the offensive early Christmas decorations and learn about real problems.

Let me hear from you in the comment section. Are you a Christmas Nazi or a Thanksgiving Purist, or are you just someone who enjoys pretty lights and a decorated indoor tree when it’s cold and gray outside?

Filed under: Snarcasm Tagged: Christmas, Happy Holidays, Murica, Thanksgiving

Mama Knows Booze and Superheroes

Either the universe is trying to tell me something, or Ashton Kutcher is following me around with his Punk’D crew. Whenever I walk into a grocery store, some sort of awkward BS ensues. Perhaps I am not supposed to go grocery shopping.  Maybe I’m supposed to send my husband or my son out for everything and just stay on my couch throne with my cat and watch Shameless all the live long day.  NAH! If I did that I wouldn’t have such fabulous stories to share.

So, today my son and I were out running errands, which included buying taco fixings and liquor.  Because it is Friday, ya know. So, since we prefer one-stop shopping, we went to the only grocery store in our hood that also sells liquor.  We do not normally shop at this store, and today I was reminded why.

We walked through the produce section, stopping to pick up lettuce, and then all the way to the back of the store, where the official liquor section is. As soon as we were about to enter the liquor section, we were greeted by a tall (I think she was tall, but I’m five foot nothing so everyone is tall to me) blonde woman wearing a store name tag. She looked me up and down and then looked over at my son.  I thought she was going to tell me that he could not come in with me because he is not 21.  He is at the unfortunate age of 20 and a half.  Some stores won’t even allow underage people through the door.  So, I was waiting for her to ID him.  Instead, she greeted us warmly.

“How are you?” She said in a booming voice.

I said fine and asked how she was.

She said fine and kept standing at the entrance to the liquor section, staring at me.  She would not move. She told me she was reorganizing the liquor.  She kept standing there.

I said, “Oh. OK. Well, I will be quick. I know exactly what I need.”

“Mama doesn’t judge,” she said.

I laughed a little because I thought she was joking and because I laugh in uncomfortable situations. I took a step forward and she still didn’t move.  Finally, I squeezed between her and a box of riesling and headed for the vodka, leaving my son to figure out how to get past her with our cart.  I guess she stepped out of the way because my son got in.  Since, I was focused on the vodka and not my man-child, as all good mothers would be, I did not see her actually move.

I grabbed a bottle of vanilla Absolut and put it in our cart. I told my son to just stay there rather than try to maneuver the cart around the small liquor section. Mama walked from the vodka aisle over to the scotch section, two rows over.

I told her, “I need three bottles then I will be out of your way.”

She said, “Oh mama doesn’t judge!” She spoke like she was straight out of a Tyler Perry movie. Plus, I was starting to feel like she was judging, but I didn’t really care.

Then, she continued talking to my son and me, all the while referring to herself as Mama. I hadn’t heard anyone who is not a puppet on Sesame Street do this so consistently since Bob Dole ran for president. By the way, did you know that people who refer to themselves in the third person are called illeists?  It actually has a name! And here I was just calling them assholes, but I digress. Let’s get back to Mama.

As she continued on her Mama monologue, my first thought was, “Did she mix up her day and night allergy meds?” The pollen count has been high.

Then I thought, “No. She’s been sampling the goods.” This led me to one of the best ideas I have ever had, “Maybe I should get a job at a liquor store!”

I grabbed the Fireball from the end cap by the vodka, and then I headed to the scotch section, which was where Mama was stocking.  I just wanted to get out of there quickly, so I grabbed the scotch that she was currently putting on the shelf, as there was a bunch of it stacked on a cart in front of the entire scotch section.  It was a HUGE bottle of 12-year-old Glenlivet.  So, NOT cheap.

“Mama is a Jack Daniel’s girl!” she announced, as I grabbed the scotch.  Somehow, this was not surprising. I couldn’t quite picture Mama savoring some Glenlivet by the fire. I was willing to bet that Mama had put Jack in her coffee before coming to work. Maybe she had some sort of Jack Daniels pump that continuously monitored her blood alcohol level and pumped Jack in her system to keep her at Mama level.

I brought the scotch to the counter and grabbed the Fireball and vodka from the cart. I just wanted to pay and get out of Mamaland.  As I was putting the bottles on the counter, I noticed a package of Stoli mini bottles in different flavors. I put it on the counter and said, “I always like to try new flavors.”

“Mama doesn’t judge.  Oh no. No judgment from Mama,” she said.  Then she repeated, “Mama is a Jack Daniel’s girl.”

At this point, I literally looked around for a camera crew.  This had to be some sort of prank.  Nope.  It was just me, my son, and Mama.

Mama rang up each item and stopped a couple of times to double check that she had scanned everything.  This was when I thought, “Maybe she is on Vicodin or something. She’s really friendly and a little slow.  Maybe that’s it.”

Well, since I don’t own or manage the store, I didn’t stop to figure it out.  I put my liquor in the cart and scurried out with my son to get the rest of our taco fixings.  When we got out of earshot, I just said, “Okiedokie” to my son, to which he replied, “That was more painful than ordering at Panera.”  He was right about that.  Our last visit to Panera was painful, but he wasn’t with me at Kroger on loud superhero day. Now THAT was worse.

A couple of months ago, I went to Kroger super early in the morning.  Since I was up anyway, and since my hair looked like it was straight out of the Play-Doh Barber Shop, I decided to go to Kroger at 8:00 am so I could AVOID people. No such luck.

Apparently, my Kroger is the main district Kroger or whatever because there is always some strange crap going down there. This particular day was like a nightmare for introverted people with bad hair.

There I was, looking for the American cheese that the cat and the Maltese both like. The cat doesn’t eat cat treats or any other kind of cheese, and the Maltese is on heart pills that must be smooshed in cheese so she will take them. So, it was important to get the right kind. I had not gotten to Starbucks yet, so I was REALLY concentrating on the cheese. That’s when the loud music and some doofus talking like a game show host came over the speaker. At 8:15 in the damn morning. Did I mention I had no coffee and homeless chic hair?

Then, I saw the superheroes. Nope. I was not hallucinating and I had not had any of Mama’s Jack Daniel’s. There were people running around in superhero costumes. In the damn grocery store at 8:16! I ran my hand through my hair and looked down. I grabbed my pets’ cheese and a few more items and attempted to get to the cash registers.

Holy crazy crowd of geeks, Batman! The front of the store was blocked. I said a meek, “Excuse me” and tried to inch past Spiderman, Wonder Woman, and some woman who was obviously from corporate. I know this because she gave me her “I had my Starbucks! Bless your heart with that hair” smile.

She said, “HI!” as I passed her.

I said, “Why is this happening?”

She told me they were having a “bag off” for cash and prizes. The woman next to her said that she was competing. I patted her on the shoulder and told her, “I hope you have some liquor.”

I paid for my stuff, visited the in-store Starbucks and got the hell out of there. I have never gone back without being caffeinated.

Maybe I should just stop shopping.  I think between Amazon and Jet, I should be able to get everything I need.  I can just supplement my diet with Chinese delivery and pizza, to make up for the lack of refrigerated or frozen food.  It’s just not worth the awkwardness to go to an actual store.

Filed under: Snarcasm Tagged: awkwardness, Grocery stores, introverts