Bothered

Most days I like to define myself as an optimist who's generally fond of mankind. I really do. When it's pouring down rain, others might grumble and get their frown on, but then there's me rolling up behind them thinking that "This is great because my yard's getting crunchy." Like Buddy the elf, "I like smiling. Smiling's my favorite." For a long time, one of my facebook interests was "laughing." This is true.

It doesn't take too much for me to look like this. Pretty much anything relating to poop or farts will work.

The point is that I'm usually a happy person, if I haven't hammered that in yet.

But there are a few things that make me pretty perturbed. Annoyed. Irritated. Pet Peeved.

See the list below to avoid me making this face/gesture at you.

They aren't big deals, and most will likely be specific to only me (my husband insists that I may have a touch of OCD) but they bother me nonetheless. This is likely to be an ongoing list as I think of more.

It all started yesterday at Publix (a local grocery store) whose motto is "Where shopping is a pleasure."  It's not so much the store that I find bothersome, but the people inside it. And to make matters worse, this particular store has skinnier-than-normal aisles, so my threshold to tolerate idiocy becomes virtually nonexistent. Yesterday's grocery getting nearly made me want to mow down my fellow shoppers with my cart. (Or if you're southern: "buggy".) There are certain types of shoppers that make me want to stuff my face with fistfuls of Xanax.

Here is a fun (and short) list of them:  

The Great Debaters

Kashi hasn't changed radically overnight - they're still healthy. Put it in your damn cart already.

This type of grocery shopper is intent on making your life miserable by reading every single syllable on each package of food-like stuff they touch. They have a desperate need to make painstaking mental calculations for the caloric/fat/sugar/whatever content in both the light and fat-free varieties of pretty much everything in the damn store. And they do so as slowly as possible while blocking the aisle with their cart. Unless they've started printing Shakespeare on boxes of mac and cheese, there is no good reason for you to be staring at that box all day long, Debaters.

Beware of the Great Debaters, as they like frequently like to travel in mated pairs. Often mated pairs will debate with each other, which may cause great distress to those around them due to the increased debating time.

(This is a real conversation that nearly made me commit multiple homocides.)

"We're not going to have time to cook the bacon, so let's get the precooked stuff."
"But that's got all kinds of added stuff that I don't want... look."
"Oh yeah, I see what you mean. Alright, then grab that one. No, not the maple flavor!"
"Why not?"

So you don't stab yourself or anyone else, I'm going to end this dramatic reenactment now. But just imagine witnessing that as you patiently wait for an ungodly amount of time, because all the while they're blocking the roast beef that you want to make sandwiches with next week.

To get myself through ordeals like this, I imagine me, sitting happily atop sandwich mountain. Oh delicious deli meats, what will I not do for you?

What to do when approaching Great Debaters - DON'T do what I did, which was: circle like a creepy lunchmeat-eating vulture for a good 5 minutes, stop pacing, stare at them for a while as they continued their unnecessarily long conversation, then forcibly move their cart out of your way. Instead, try asking them in a calm and non-threatening tone if they wouldn't mind stepping aside because they're not the only people in the store. Thanks.

The Offensive Line

The Duggar family. I didn't bother counting to see if this was a current picture because I figured by the time I'd finished, they would've had another kid anyway.

As you can probably guess by the name and the helpful visual aid I've provided, the Offensive Line is a large group that mainly travels as a unit. While I do not mind families in my shopping experience (in fact, I love overhearing kids' conversations with parents - "How many times do I have to tell you, I am NOT buying you that huge jar of pickles!") I do mind large barricades of any kind at the store. There are icebergs that can move faster than some of the OLs I've encountered. The Offensive Line, while it doesn't pose as great a threat to one's sanity, does make it more difficult for others to procure their items. And who in their right mind created these monstrosities?

Roughly the size of a Cadillac, these babies can reach speeds of 2 feet per hour, from what I've seen.

Actually, if I'm being honest, the most irksome part of the Offensive Line isn't really the people at all. Nearly 100% of the families I've run across on my shopping ventures are very conscientious, but these Macy's Day Parade floats masquerading as shopping carts make it very difficult to maneuver around them. Perhaps it's actually a ploy concocted by Big Grocery, based on the premise that the longer you stay, the more you'll end up spending. (?) Nah, that's too much, man. Too much.

The Fakers

"Hold on a sec, my leg hurts. I'm going to get a scooter." -- said by an overly dramatic, 19 to 21 year-old, Amazonian, Grace Jones-alike whose own family looked her over with speculative eyes.

I'm pretty sure I don't have to explain this one. Why are you, a healthy, otherwise capable (apparently not mentally, though) adult choosing to ride around in a Rascal? When did disabilities become cool?

Whose parking spot is this? Yeah, that's what I thought.

I've seen more of these than I'd like to imagine. And while it's usually just kids being silly, it annoys me that they don't have the good sense to think about the people who may have an actual need for assistance. Every once in a while I see a person relatively close to my age riding around in a scooter, though, and I always find myself thinking and wondering about their ailment...

Why do you need that? Your calves look like Michelle Obama's arms! Surely they must work. Uh oh. If you can be really buff and handi-capable, then what's that mean for me, whose calf definition is more akin to flan than ripped First Lady? Maybe I should jump on a scooter right quick, just for 5 minutes, just to see. After all, I'll need to practice in order to figure out how to get around those huge kid-carts....