An Open Letter to the Guy at Publix Today:

Dear Stupid Old Turd at Publix:

Hey there. I didn't know how to tell you how I felt, so I thought It'd be best if I put it in a letter to you.

Remember how I had put all my groceries on the conveyer belt, and said groceries consisted of embarassing things to buy like eggs (I hate buying eggs for some reason...eggs, corn and toilet paper), Jell-O, Cool Whip, and other embarassingly South Beach Diet items... And remember how I was talking to the Cashier?

And remember how, smilng, you interrupted me, and asked if you could cut through my aisle to get into the grocery store, so you didn't have to make that Everest-ian Trek past the far-distant Customer Service desk to reach your cans of Chili and Beans and boxes of Mothballs? 'Member how you asked me to back up out of my aisle and abandon my transaction, so you could avoid walking 50 feet in total? Thereby beinga minor an unnecessary-and-appallingly-ballsy inconvenience to me, for the sake of your lazy, fat ass?

And remember how I said, "No, you can walk around," while shaking my head and looking at you like you were a total twatwaffle? And then you gave me a shit-eating grin, conveying that you knew you were being a total asshole and that I had called you on your bullshit?

I just wanted you to know that I really enjoyed our moment, where you made an unreasonable demand of me, and I told you to fuck yourself. You made my day. Enjoy that Hormel Chili, and thinking about your adolescence in the 1940s!

Love,

Me.