It's official: Bitter Moody Cashier Guy at Albertsons has no more patience with me.
I have no idea what wounded that particular camel - but its' back broke right in half
on Halloween when I said, "Hey, let me guess: Junior High School P.E. Teacher"....
How was I supposed to know he wasn't wearing a costume?
In other news, Oprah has finally actualized herself completely beyond of my realm of acceptance, and into the seething outer rings of my antipathy (where she joins other notables that currently include: Paris Hilton, Jennifer Anniston, Nancy Grace, Sheryl Crow, my older sister, and Mel Gibson's giant beard).
In truth, Oprah is barking right outside my morgue of aversion, where - if things don't improve with her soon - she'll enter to cool her heels with Tom DeLay, George Bush, Melanie Griffith and a few other hair farmers I know.
I know....I feel you... you are wondering "Why all the hatin' on O, brown shoes? And who, might we ask, DO you like?"
Well, the O situation has been building for years, but recently it has reached critical mass. Symptoms? Celebrity fever. Designer fever. Richest woman on earth fever.
Her Maya Angelouges and....
Tom Cruise.
Need I say more?
And as for love - well - there are many to crush on like crazy these days.
Jack Lemmon. Jerry Orbach (and yes, I'm aware they are dead).
Steve Almond, author of Candyfreak. Palmer Candy Company, architect of Junior Mints.
My son, who finagled me a pair of prosthetic feet. Vincent D'Onofrio. The manager of my
bank branch, who actually did what she said she'd do.
Baby Theodore, who is the newest person I know. Carol Burnett.
But, I digress.
The crucial point here is that BMC guy does not like me - and now I will be forced to use the
U-SCAN thing when he's the only living cashier available.
Which I suppose is karma for spending the last half hour blazing this little judgment trail
through cyberspace.
Guilty T.V. - Real Exorcisms. Real Hauntings. Real Psychics......
what have I become?