I Was Hungry

I was hungry. I had to buy groceries. I don't have a house boy or anything , so I must venture to that food zoo by myself. I went straight there from work.
It was all going quite normally. I was chatting on the phone with my mom. The crazy grocery store people LOVE it when I am on my phone. My voice gets gradually louder and louder with each exciting piece of conversational excellence I take part in. I am doing ok all through the produce isles. I meander over to gaze upon the .39 cents a pound turkey, all the while discussing with my mom that I would be happy just going to a thanksgiving movie. I don't want the turkey, but the promise of a deal has drawn me over with it's invisible force. I am sure I am turning into a vegetarian anyhow (except for bacon) and even if I were hungry for meat, I will NOT be eating the hip widening hell that is Thanksgiving dinner. My quest for a smaller waist line is going well. Oddly, there are no more turkeys in the grocers fridge. Huh. What now? I spy shrimp on sale. Healthy and on sale. I had to buy something besides vegetables for a change. I swear I'm getting a green cast to my skin I have consumed so much spinach in the last month. I made it tearfully past the siren call of the donuts and I am happy with the choices I have made. I am finally off the phone and am able to look around and enjoy the scenery such as it is.
Here is a woman walking toward me wearing a brown jacket that she should have burnt after 8th grade, a diagonally striped orange and white jammie shirt that hangs mid thigh, some kind of pants and fuzzy purple slippers. WTF? Do we not match our slippers to our outfits anymore? Heathen! Anyhoo..I get the satisfaction of listening to her cell phone conversation now.. "She know I'm mad! She better not call dis phone!" Said the woman in the purple slippers. Tell it sistah!
You'll note that I used the tiny bit of restraint I can sometimes muster and did not take a picture. Bummer.
Giggling to myself, I go to check out. Old dude gives me the total. I dutifully count out my ones. He says I counted a dollar short. WHAT? NO! This cannot be. I count it over. Of course it's perfect. I tell him it is correct and that the one thing I can do very well is count. He trusts me and puts the money away. I'm smiling at my counting success and I see that the guy behind me is looking askance at my declaration that I am only really able to do this one thing well. I, feeling like a cheeky monkey, proclaim, "Of course I can do other stuff well too." Yeah. I think it came out flirty instead of cheeky. He smiled. I'm pretty sure he had already decided what that might be. MEN! Thanks again. :)
I leave the checkout line and haul ass toward the door. I was frustrated after waiting an eternity for some sloth-speed woman to figure out how to not be right in front of me. I did not even nudge her with my cart. I ought to get a medal.
I notice then (quite by accident) that this random guy I passed has a HUGE package. Huge! After an unconscious double take of his "assests", I realized that in fact he is likely wearing a diaper. I am scarred eternally as I beeline for my car.
I do not think I'll be hungry again for quite some time.