Jeremy (rezik) wrote,
Jeremy
rezik

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Hello World.

I've just returned from Kroger's, my local grocery store. After having been cooped up at home for two with the stomach flu, I'd had enough. Prior to leaving, I looked somewhat like a cross between a Tom Hanks cast-away & a Johnny Depp pirate. Although hardly as cute as the latter. I rummaged around and found a Jack Daniels baseball cap (v. butch), a Williams Companies mechanic shirt (also v. butch, considering it was real and not Hot Topic), and v. holey/raggedy pair of jeans. Butch Mechanic, thy name is Jeremy. Thus armed, I stumbled to the parking lot realizing I hadn't driven my car in almost 3 days, and didn't exactly remember where I'd put it. Just as I finally saw it, HAFBS (Hot A&F Boys) from across the courtyard started giggling. As they jumped in there trucks, which clearly compensated for something, they shouted over the engines something along the lines of "Good Luck." I was not amused. That's two more people in this world who should expect a Mack truck with their names on it. Determined to make this late night shopping spree an enjoyable experience, I plodded along gamely towards my car, only to narrowly escape near death as two assholes in a Mustang raced through the parking lot.

7 near death driving experiences later, I finally reached the store with a raging headache. Summer flowers were on sale, and I quickly forgot I was playing butch and began rummaging through the mix-and-match flowers thinking of bright oranges and reds. 30 seconds later, I decided buying flowers for myself was sad and pathetic, even if it really was to open up the empty apartment a bit. At exactly that time, "Don't Cry Out Loud" (or whatever that ridiculous song is called) came blaring over the store speakers in that annoying off-tune, slightly re-arranged way that most Muzak has. I wish my life didn't have a soundtrack, really I do.

Of course, $80 later, having only entered the store for dryer sheets and some small frozen type food for the night, I was finished. Evidently, I'm done fasting. I then waited in line for 20 minutes behind some Wilde-beast who couldn't quite find all her coupons. Now, I'm personally, *all* about coupons, but if you're going to use them, GET THEM OUT BEFORE YOU GET IN THE FUCKING LINE! Needless to say, wilde-beast soon sensed the heat of my gaze on her huge deformed back and told the cashier to forget about the coupons. Ok, well, her back wasn't really deformed, but it sounds much better that way. She *was* wearing purple from head to toe, which reminded me of my goal to become an eccentric old man who wears pastel suits matching from head to toe. Or not.

I then spent the next 10 minutes waiting for the sacker (clearly stoned out of her mind) to bring me the correct brand of cigarettes, and trying desperately not to blurt out to the cashier (clearly a bull-dyke) that I was a post-op Female to Male transgendered person. (For the record I'm not) For whatever reason, in my mind, trying to convince this random lesbian that I was a trannie seemed like the best idea I'd ever had. I quickly vetoed the decision and decided to tell her how nice I thought her lesbian sandals were. I managed to not call them lesbian sandals, or remark about the fact that she was also wearing socks. I then proceeded to convince her I used to be a Kroger's cashier. I DON'T KNOW WHERE THIS UNHEALTHY DESIRE TO LIE TO THIS WOMAN CAME FROM!!!!!

Having finally realized they did not in fact have my brand of cigarettes, the sacker returned walking about .00000001 miles per hour. I paid for my groceries and proceeded to run smack dab into Hot-Lawyer-Looking guy who simply frowned at me. I nearly threw a loaf of Kaiser Rolls at him for his un-apologetic-ness. Having used every ounce of will power left in my body not doing so, I then managed to sneak my way through the parking lot, which had suddenly become invaded with lots of scary low-rider type cars that had hydraulics and speakers that rattled the windows of the store. Rent-a-cops started circling the parking lot like vultures, and I decided I was done playing butch for the night and ran to my car like a nelly fag and threw my groceries in the car as quickly as possible.

I managed to get home in one piece and vowed that I would never leave the house again, just when I realized I had forgotten to stop and buy cigarettes. And here I sit, glaring at Hannah the demon cat, knowing in my heart of hearts, only one of us will survive this night alive.
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LJ spell-check needs to recognize that Trannie is, in fact, a real word damnit!
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