Just gimme a fucking corndog.. I promise to leave in peace.

Happy Holy Day. I am increasingly crabby. I tried, I really tried hard not to be, but I give up and must just embrace my shitty attitude.

At work it was newsletter day, starting off routinely enough but then morphed into misery that after three completely unnecessary changes, made the crippled ass joints and growths in my deformed hands ache fiercely. If I didn’t have too much pride to admit how much I sometimes hurt, I’m sure Bosslady would have asked someone to help me. Mostly rotten, but she does have a few redeeming qualities, probably because she also has the same hand-fucking-disease. She just got it about 50 years after I did.

My redeeming time was to be lunch. I thought I’d have a nice honey-crunch corndog.

I went into AM PM and saw their hot food case to be very tardy, empty and only a few dregs left to choose from. How many of you are thinking “You should have walked away right then!”

I gazed at said dregs for a minute, squinting to see if anything would become more appealing that way, and became aware there was a person standing way too close to me and staring at the same unwanted food I was considering. I backed away and said “Just go, I don’t know what I want.” knowing that I didn’t want anything but hoping I would suddenly be in a Florida Orange Juice commercial where I could reach into the case and my hand would appear at some corndog factory on the other side where a cheerful man in a chef’s hat would slap one of those babies into my hand, fresh hot and just for me!

This was not to be my reality. The guy took a cheeseburger. I took a hot dog and turned for ketchup. There he was again, hoarding the entire ketchup bar. He couldn’t use the squeezy tube, he had to one by one open the tiny packets that are meant for people on the GO. Again, I tried hard not to go crabby but he was slathering an 80 cent convenience store soy burger like it was fucking filet minion, which is fine, but was in my way and as rude as I can be I never reach over people’s food. That’ll get you bit. Or at least I bite, maybe others don’t, but you should as that action is highly offensive. The cashier looked on, keenly noticing my lack of patience and eyeball bulging.

I waited. Got my ketchup and went for a chip or something when I turn around and dude is there AGAIN, wanting whatever I was wanting. Being a crabby fuck I asked if he was my appointed nemesis of the day, not being well behaved and thinking that maybe this good patron has the same shitty taste in lunch that I was having.

Cmon though…. LOOK at this fucking lunch.

I seriously beg to differ that is a hot dog. I bit into it and damn near fucking puked a few moments later because it looked like a lacerated penis, and I actually paid for that not knowing what was in the wrapper. No hot dog should ever be that brown outside and bloody red inside. Ever.

I was still annoyed over the shopper attached to my hip so on impulse bought the cotton candy, mostly to see if he would too.

“I don’t know why I’m buying this.”
“It’s pretty good.” the cashier said.
“I’m not so sure.”
“Maybe you want it for chilhood nostalgia?”
“I don’t think so, I’ve only really had it once or twice, a long time ago” /hands the man a five dollar bill.
“Well, maybe then you just wanted to stare at the bag.” He said and I smiled softly, thinking he somehow knew I was buying something I didn’t want just because it was there looking at me. Bless you clerk, but fuck you for not telling me about the age of wiener death dog as I have no doubt he knew exactly how old and disgusting that thing was about to be.

-DM

ps - I did taste some of the cotton candy, and fuck you YES I cut it into slices with a plastic fork and knife - it looked sticky after all - and I was not impressed. For all the shit I get for not eating anything most people do ... what am I missing there? It turns into nothing the second it hits your mouth. I'd rather wait to go eat snow if my mouth wants a tease.