2004-12-24 @ 1:44 a.m.
And all Through the Malls
There Were So Many Creatures Stirring
I Felt Like Killing Them All...”
Heh, heh, whoops...just thinking aloud there. Not that this is a signed confession or anything.
Its only went into exactly two stores today, but that was enough to nearly make me homicidal. One I had to go to for work...the yuppie grocery store with a client, and the other one was with my mother. And I came very close to pulling out my AK47 (now that assault rifles are legal once again thanks to our kind and benevolent
But I guess I should start with the drive there...The second store. The one my mom was driving me to to buy me a gift card. Forget about the fact that my mother can get lost on a block long street with no stop signs or curves. Forget about the fact that she doesn’t realize that, well, there are “other” people driving on the street and that when she suddenly and irrationally stops in the middle of a busy street to try and figure out where the hell she is (even though she has Never-Gets-Lost Witty there to navigate), people that are hurtling dangerously fast might possibly hit her, thus making Witty scream loudly. Forget about the fact, that she thinks she is driving a big SUV, when she is only driving a crappy, little Honda with malfunctioning seatbelts. She takes really dangerous chances like going ahead into an intersection AFTER the light changes and being in direct line of oncoming traffic, making witty scream even louder.
But I guess I should really go back to the very beginning to the people who designed the roads leading into the malls...
Say! Did you ever consider that one day, like say, the Day Before Christmas Eve, there might be like 3.6 million people trying to get into your one lane driveway? Really? You did? But then you thought, “Hey! Wouldn’t it be really funny if the traffic lights weren’t syncronized in any particular way and the culverts were really deep and there were no street lights showing anyone where the pot holes were and only 4 cars at a time could get through the stop light, and then one in 4 would hit pot holes so severe that they would veer off into culverts and disappear down embankments never to be seen again? Yeah, COOOL!”
And then there are the drivers/maniacs/soccer moms on ADHD medicine/road rage addicts who feel that the “deserve” to get through the next green light NO MATTER HOW MANY LIVES THEY TAKE WITH THEM. They always inevidibly have massive SUVS/Humvees with armor plating, talking on their cell phones to their respective spouses/therapists/pilate instructors/secret santas while going at least 40 mph over the speed limit. Red light? Not problemo! Obviously that does not apply to me (i.e., armor-plated Humvee owner). Vrrrrrrrrmmmm!
And then once you travel from one shopping center over across the bridge. (Mileage: .5 miles. Travel time: 37 minutes), there is the Parking Lot Universe to deal with. Ahhh, the Parking Lot Universe, where stop signs have no meaning....and people engage in their NASCAR fantasies by driving 150 mph across the empty part of the parking lot, and then slow to a mere 86 mph in the populated part. Yes, there is a certain circular aspect to the rows in a parking lot, but that does not mean, that you are at the Indianapolis 500, Skippy.
What! What’s that? Someone pulling out of a space 12 rows over...wait, let me plow through that Amish family of 12, so I can get over to Walmart!
Guys, the Evil Empire, will still be there in 3 minutes. I promise. You really don’t have to wipe out an entire generation of the Gustafsans, just because you want to buy a can opener for your least favorite cousin who drinks.
And then there are the idiots walking in the parking lot. And yes, you are idiots. Each and every one of you. Its dark out. Why are you letting your kids run off like its the 50 yard sprint at the summer picnic? Did they piss you off in the store and you WANT to see the little bastards to get hit? Because personally I don’t want “enable” your little fantasy there. Hold onto your damn kids, Mr. and Mrs. Mom. They shouldn’t be running out in traffic.
And by the way...Are you guys fucking blind too? I finally get my all important parking place and am backing out, and suddenly you appear out of nowhere and are blithely walking behind my car. Do you not SEE my 12,000 tons of hunking white steel rolling towards you? Do you not fear getting crushed like a grape by a giant and terrifying Ford Tempo? Because if you aren’t...you should be. Why? Because I may not be able to see your little 130 pound skinny ass if you are walking in my blind spot. And you may even hit me on the day, when the 1037th person in my lifetime, has walked behind my car when I am backing out, and I can just no longer stand the inhumanity of it all and I may floor it. And you, my friend, will just be an oil stain on the pavement. And I will the triumphant wittykitty. Queen of all that I see (and don’t see).
And we’re not even in the store yet...
Okay. We’re in the store now. And you know what? You better get the hell out of my way. Why? Because I’m packing people...I’m packing the “I’ve got an Uzi in my purse and I’m not afraid to use it” frame of mind. I wasn’t always like this. It took years of practice.
I think the main problem I have with Christmas shoppers is that they are totally oblivious to anything that is going on, within .0003 inches around them. Like the older woman yesterday, who totally stopped in the main doorway of the yuppie grocery store to put on her coat. Its like hon...do you realize you just stopped the entire ebb and flow of a massive super market to put on your coat? Granted she would probably move if suddenly 3000 people screamed “MOVE LORETTA!!!!!!!!!!!”. In fact, she would probably be pretty startled. Hey, I'd pay to see that...heh, heh.
And then there are the power shoppers, who run up and down the aisles of our formerly safe stores with their
Dear tall, willowy blonde trophy wife with your diamond encrusted cell phone in housewares today:
Yes, you were stunning. I was quite breathless when I came around the corner with my cart and you were just standing there like a vision. A vision I tell you! And I know that you are probably worth every penny your husband paid for you and your silicone tits. But you know what? You don’t OWN the aisle you were blocking with your big ass shopping cart overflowing with expensive presents. Excuse me? What did you say? I’m blonde and my husband’s a lawyer? I’m blonde and I probably made fun of you in high school because you were a drama geek? I’m blonde and I vacation every winter in Cancun with Oprah?
heh, heh, that’s better. It’s always funny, how that AK47 line works in nearly every situation.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty