Grocery Shopping In Bitch Infested Waters

by Cookie

I just realized that seeing as I am now officially done with my students, I am technically a stay at home mom for the next 3 months.  That means my primary job duties include laundry, cooking, cleaning, and mostly,  keeping two children alive until relief gets home.

One of my designated chores that I actually don’t mind doing is the grocery shopping.  I like to cook, and so I go off to the store sans list and have at it.  My two special talents in life make this easy.

1.  I always find a parking spot close by the door.  Always.  I don’t know how, but ask anyone.  People take me places just for the free valet.

2.  I can literally keep our grocery budget within a 20$ window without actually budgeting or making a list.  I have some sort of weird number thing inside my brain I think.  Rain Man’s long lost sister.

Of course, these days my grocery habits are a little off and I am realizing how weird other people can be.  I usually go to the store early in the morning, but yesterday, I went around supper.  The trip seemed to have a different flavour from the beginning.

First of all, for some reason, my usually oh so comfortable maternity knickers felt like they were falling down. In fact, they kept falling down no matter how slow I waddled around.  It was awkward, because I had a sundress on and I was worried they might fall all the way down. So I had to be that weird chick, pulling up her underpants as she walked.  At one point  I actually considered going to the bathroom to take them off.  Unfortunately, the small purse I had brought with me might not have accommodated the enormous size of maternity knickers.  You. Have. No. Idea.

The other shoppers leave something for humanity to desire as well.  The woman are all bitchy and rude and annoying.

Karma did step in and restore my faith in the universe when one cunty bitch watched me drop an entire thing of cauliflower at her feet.  I thought for sure she would have seen me try to pick it up from the counter using my swollen hand-stumps, drop it and at least pretend  to gesture to pick it up for me.  But no.  She turned her attention promptly back to the celery.  And proceeded to get soaked by the sprinkler system over the produce.  Ha ha.  Fuck you Cunty Nohelp.

And here’s a shout out to Mrs. Takeupthe-Wholeaisle.  When you see a 1005 month pregnant woman waiting patiently for you to move your fucking cart aside so she can pass by, you should say a silent prayer that she hasn’t bitched you out.  So when you move it and make the blocking of the aisle worse, you should drop to your fucking knees and pray I don’t kick you in the groin.  And when I politely move your cart aside for you because you are to fucking obtuse to take the hint, you really shouldn’t be rude to me, because at any second, I could whip out an english cucumber and start using it as a weapon.  Christ.

I fucking hate people.  The End.

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