Had a nice little PUMP-FILLED jaunt to the grocery store on Sunday morning. Woke up in a great mood, had some coffee, realized I was sweating (SWEATPUMP) so I turned on the AC, filled out the grocery list, and off I went.
Too bad some assholes tried to deflate the PUMP. Dude, you're grocery shopping at the Krog, I'm not sure what you expect or who you think you are.
First PUMP came when I saw that Heckyeahwoman added a bunch of fruit and veggies to the grocery list! Heck yeah! Woman! I don't know why, but I really enjoy purchasing vegetables and fruit. Maybe it's the feeling every square inch of each piece of produce, feeling for the soft spot. Maybe it's the fun of putting each delicious piece in those little thin plastic bags. Who knows and who cares, I'm shoppin' man, I'm shoppin'.
The first 3/4 of the shopping experience went off without incident, not like you're expecting "incidents" at noon on Sunday at the Kroger, (this ain't the Winn). But then Mr. Retired Yuppie Asshole decided to have a family reunion with his son and son's friend.
In the middle of the aisle.
Yeah, he just sat there with his cart blocking the aisle. Must have been shopping with his middle aged son, as the son introduced the dad to some lady he must have known. No big deal, yet. As a gentleman, on my approach I humbly said "excuse me".
Nothing, didn't budge.
Said it again.
Nothing, didn't acknowledge my presence.
"Excuse me, I'm just going to sneak by you here, fucking dick." As my bumper cart blasted his out of the way.
While nobody sustained any injuries, and neither cart was damaged, I'm pretty sure the force of contact shuffled the shit out of whatever he had in his cart.
PUTTIN THE HAMMER DOWN PUMP ALL DAY.
LETTIN' ASSHOLES KNOW PUMP.
Just kept on shopping like nothing happened, wake of terror behind me.
Finished up shopping, grabbed some yogurt, and creeped over to the checkout line. Self checkout, mind you.
Oddly, all the checkouts were taken, and there appeared to be an errant cart waiting in line, sans driver/shopper. Hmmmm.
A quick scan of the immediate area told me that I don't give a shit, so I jumped all over the next checkout that just opened.
And that's when I watched a grown ass man have a grown ass meltdown.
See, the problem was all the shopping carts were outside. Noticing that, he kindly informed an employee of the problem. The employee apologized, mentioned something about being shorthanded (staff, not her actual hands), and summoned some young boy to grab some carts.
So far, so good.
Now where he went astray was rather than going outside to quickly grab a cart, or gulp...a couple, he stood there and complained.
Among the things this asshole said to the poor lady working there, after his initial complaint:
"You'd think they'd have shopping carts here." Lol @ "they".
"Do you have shopping carts here?" Yeah, you just told the lady that they were all outside.
"How long will it be until we can shop?" As long as it takes you to go grab a cart, you lazy bastard - about 30 seconds, max.
"I can't believe there are no shopping carts." Inside, you can't believe there are no shopping carts inside.
That's not the worst of it. No, the real travesty is that his son was with him. Yep, he just showed his son how to be a total crybaby pussy. Though I'm sure his son already had a pretty good grasp on that schtick.
Walk your white ass out to the parking lot, grab a goddamn shopping cart, and buy some goddamn groceries. This isn't Club Med, bro. This is the real world.
Holy crap, when I went grocery shopping with my dad when I was a kid, it was less grocery shopping and more a bloodbath. I'll never forget how many times I heard my mom yelling at us as we left: "YOU DON'T NEED ALL THOSE GUNS TO GO TO THE GROCERY STORE".
Sadly, the trip ended with the ultimate PUMP DOWN: me dropping almost $100 :( Whatevs, we got TONS of food for the week! PUMP!
And the PUMP WAS ON HIGH this song was BLASTING ON MY STEREO ON THE DRIVE HOME!
As with any good PUMP, you gotta ask yourself, did you leave with more PUMP than you came with? I know I did.
PUMP ON, FRIENDS.