The butter aisle

After work the other night I walked to wallyworld to purchase some conveniently packaged, life bestowing protein and carbohydrates. I had a drink or 3.14 beforehand of course, because doing that makes walking easier. More ENDURABLE and more INTERESTING, and less SHITTY.

When I got to the wallywhirle, I headed for the butter aisle, and as I was zeroing in on the specific butter that I wanted, and drawing a bead on it, I saw a young, pretty, by herself lady-woman-girl (I notice these things) vectoring in on the same butter. And, just as I imperceptibly crooked my noggin a little to acknowledge the new traffic in the butter aisle, the young-pretty-lady-that-probably-wanted-some-butter did an abrupt 90 degree turn away from the butter and toward the chicken.

Huh.

Do you think that maybe she just up and suddenly changed her mind about the butter and realized that it was chicken that she needed all along? No? Neither do I. I think that she was scared of me, and that she wanted to avoid an almost-close type of situation. Hell, it ain't a big deal... it happens all the time, and I mean All The Time. I just don't ever get used to it, is all. So what happened next was, these here words pooped out of my mouth...

"Sorry, I just need some butter and I'll be out of your way in half a second, sorry... I'm already gone, the butter sections all yours."

See what I mean about me being an inexcusable asshole? I can't help it. Actually, I probably could help it, but it would take practice and whatever. Anyway. So after converging with the butter margarine thing... whatever it was that I thought I needed. That thing. After I finally got there, I grabbed one of 'em and then wheeled my punk ass over to the egg section, feeling just a little discombobulated about the butter lady thing that had just happened.

Once I got to the egg section, I grabbed a six-pack of eggs (ain't it cool that eggs come in six-packs?) and opened it, so as to inspect it for cracks and greeblies, and as I was doing that, I was saying out loud in a conversational tone, just to myself, see? I was saying to myself, out loud...

"See, I'm a normal person too, like you. I know, I know... I'm a scary looking sumbitch, but I need eggs that ain't cracked, just like everybody else. I can't voodoo a cracked egg, you know."

And just as I finished saying that at full volume, thinking that I was relatively alone in the egg section, well, there was the butter lady from before, like... two feet away. Right there, see? RIGHT THERE!

Fuck.

You think I'm making this up? Nope. My life is a continuous, poorly written horror sit-com sci-fi wanna be dramatic series, which is always always always in the process and on the verge of being, but not quite, cancelled. And nobody watches it anyway.