Tuesday, March 17, 2009

I don't want to die in the dairy aisle.

There is a very, very creepy dude who works at the Dominick's next door to me. He looks like he's disintegrating. He looks hepatitis-y. He looks kinda like Iggy Pop. His yellow face, which looks like it might fall off at any second, blends in with his straw-like yellow hair. His eyes are that weird super pale blue/almost white color that always reminds me of this:

And he stares me down. Always. Always asks if I need help. Follows me from aisle to aisle. Always smiles at me with his yellow teeth that match his yellow skin and his yellow hair. I'm pretty sure he wants to kill me so he can wear my skin around or something, and I spend a good deal of time suppressing my instinct to say "Just so you know, dude, I am not in fact a size 14."

My grocery store time is my "me" time. I like wandering aimlessly through the aisles, putting things in my cart and then taking them out because I don't really need them. I like hearing Wilson Phillips' "Impulsive" while I carefully decide which bag of "8 O'Clock" coffee is best suited to my purposes. I like "8 O'Clock" coffee because drinking it makes me feel like an old-timey film noir detective. Don't ask me why, it just does. I like hearing Kelly Clarkson's "A Moment Like This" while I stand there with a box of wine, in my yoga pants and Slits t-shirt- with my hair all gagoots, staring blankly at piles of Brie and Camembert at 12 o'clock at night. I hope to god that no one waits a lifetime for a moment like that. I like it when some dude walks up to the Starbucks counter and asks for a bottle of water, and then gets mad that they don't have one. Like he's not even in a grocery store.

And, you know, I really don't like being watched. Or followed. Or smiled at. Not while I'm contemplating whether I should bother getting two bags of Nature Sweet tomatoes- because I really only need one, but they're buy one get one today, and I might as well.

Leave me be, creepy grocery store dude, leave me be.

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