Muthah Fuckah!

So, here I am, back from a day and a half spent with my girls Dawn & Crystal at Crystal's home in Staten Island, NY. Can I just tell you this? Crystal is a tiny little thing with an attitude the size of, well, freakin' Jupiter, for chrissakes. I do believe she has rubbed off on me and my propensity to avoid conflict. The evidence is only anecdotal, but compelling nonetheless.

You see, most of the time, I strive to give others the benefit of the doubt. For instance, if I see someone in the motorized shopping cart, I don't assume they're being lazy - I think "Oh, maybe they just had knee surgery" or "maybe they have a medical condition." I try to think of possible justifications for others' rude behavior. Tourettes Syndrome? Raised by wolves, perhaps? And, if possible, I usually just try to ignore what I can't help instead of getting worked up over it. Maybe it's not the best solution, but it's been working for me.

Today, though, the WCM and I were doing some errands. We stopped at Target to get a prescription, ran my vehicle through the Magic Car Wash, and then stopped at Trader Joe's for provisions. As I was driving down the aisle looking for a parking spot, I notice a middle-aged lady with an expensive handbag - I have an eye for these things, and very expensive taste in handbags, to boot - transferring her bags to the trunk of her Jaguar. While waiting for another car to pull out, I notice that she's not going to walk her cart back the 25 feet to the cart stand, and is instead going to leave it between the passenger side of her car and the driver's side of her neighbor's car. "Oh no she didn't!" I breathed. The WCM, eagle eyed as usual, had also noticed this, and affirmed "Oh, yes she did." I swung into my parking spot, collected my own expensive handbag, and noted, in a somewhat detached manner, that my blood seemed to be boiling over this grocery trolley debacle.

As we neared the cart, I felt a very strange, almost liberating, certainty that I was going to do something hitherto unknown to me. I let go of the WCM's hand and informed him to please "excuse me, I'm going to go be an asshole."

I marched up to the cart, flung my bag in the top of it, and wheeled it out of the awkward spot the bitch Jaguar woman had left it in. As I was moving it, for the benefit of Jaguar lady (who had her windows partially open) and any other interested passers-by, I very loudly stated that "I can't stand people who can't be bothered to take their FUCKING CARTS BACK!"

For the record: I do not condone using coarse and profane language in public, within the hearing of young children. That is why I made sure, once I was positive I was going to be an asshole, that there were no young children present.

That said, the smiles and nods I got upon entering Trader Joe's from the witnesses of my assholery made the whole episode worth it. That and the shock and awe that registered on the WCM's face. I either made his day or completely mortified him. But, hey. Who gives a fuck?