I Hate Me, part 377,109
I had to run out for errands. First was getting a new pair of shoes, which was a nightmare. A boring nightmare but a nightmare none the less. Who knew that people with size 12 feet got shunted off to the Circus and Freak Supply Hut (located in Hazlet, near the swamp). On my way home I stopped at the Stop & Shop to pick up some stuff. It wasn’t a lot but it was more than a hand basket would carry so I got a short grocery cart. There’s something about these carts that make me feel old and feeble. The normal carts are sturdy wagons to fill with food and drink, to barrel through the aisles with the impunity of an SUV. Whereas the short cart looks like a glorified walker, a reminder of what’s coming in a few years (if I’m lucky). Also, the short cart has an ankle smasher bar, so you have to walk with short halting steps or else you’ll smash your ankle. I wasn’t in a great mood after the shoe debacle so I thought “I’ll rewrite the rules, no short cart is gonna cramp my freewheeling, anti-authoritative style. Fuck the Man!” (I actually didn’t think that but when they make the movie of this tale, it would make a nice voice over. I’m thinking Liam Neeson). So ladies and gentlemen (those who haven’t fallen asleep yet), I pulled the cart instead of pushing it. When the history of the shopping cart is written I will be in there. Not written about like the Wright Brothers and flight but like the guy who’s shown in the history of flight blooper reel, he’s got a plane with ten wings that collapses almost instantly. Seconds after I started pulling the cart and it was smashing into the shelves knocking stuff off, I realized that they weren’t made to be pulled only pushed. I felt like an idiot, which I’m sure the people who witnessed it would agree with. Be sure to tip your bartender.