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At this time of year I am overflowing with Christmas Rage. - Truth is Stranger than Fiction. Paul is Stranger than Truth.
Dames is Grief.
mrfellow
mrfellow
At this time of year I am overflowing with Christmas Rage.
Okay, so I'm in the Target buying some wrapping paper, which is foolish, because Target's wrapping paper is universally terrible. It's like the CEO of Target started as a stock boy in charge of the wrapping paper, and when he made the big time, he made the pronouncement, "MAKE WRAPPING PAPER SO TERRIBLE THAT NO ONE WILL BUY IT, AND, ACCORDINGLY, NO ONE WILL EVER HAVE TO RESTOCK IT."

Anyhoo, while I was there, I moseyed on over to the music section to see what Target's censoring this week. As I turned the corner, a self-involved woman rammed me with her cart. I should point out, to fully flesh out the level of my annoyance, that she was pushing her cart on the left hand side of the aisle, and was most definitely not British. I was greatly vexed.

I waited momentarily for her to get the HELL out of the way. She continued to stare moronically at the CDs. After 30 seconds or so, it became clear to me that this woman was one of those people whose Christmas was SO GODDAMN IMPORTANT that she no longer had to be concerned about trivialities like basic courtesy or, oh, other people in general.

Unfortunately, exhaustion beat out snark at this point, so I just moved around her and went on my way. I was fully prepared to let the whole episode fade from memory, when I overheard the following exchange from the rude woman and her friend:

Rude woman: "I'm looking for that CD." (Kindly note that this woman was so self-important that she assumed that everyone in the entire universe knew which CD she was looking for.)

Friend: "What CD?"

Rude woman: "You know, the Christmas one. With the kids."

Friend: "What?"

Rude woman, "You know, it's Christmas music, but it's got kids signing on it."


I had just enough time to think to myself, OH MY DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN SHE'S LOOKING FOR SOME SORT OF KIDZ BOP: XMAS EDITION ALBUM when I felt something in my right temple burst. Everything went black.




I wish I could end this story with something like, "when I came to, I was pulling into the garage. There was blood on my hands and shirt. I'm afraid to look in my car's trunk." Instead, I have to end it like this:

Fuck you, rude lady.

Fuck you in your stupid ear.
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Comments
ultraminx From: ultraminx Date: December 22nd, 2008 10:05 pm (UTC) (Link)
People suck this time of year more than any other.

I wish I could hibernate every December and not wake until after New Year's Day.
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