Who Does That???

That is a question I wind up asking myself just about everyday, and the answer is usually “crazy people”. Here’s my problem in life, I am just too observant. I try to tell myself that I should just go through life oblivious to others, but for me that is next to impossible. I blame all of my years of being a teacher for that. At work, I notice everything, because I have to. That, unfortunately, carries on through the rest of my day and no matter where I go, I see the craziest things. I often look around and wonder if anyone else notices what I do, but that never seems to be the case.

Some recent examples are as follows:
There was the 5X5 guy at the Wawa with the giant raccoon tail attached to his pants. I don’t mean clip-on either, I mean obviously sewn on. How do I know that? I had a good 3 minutes to stare at it in amazement while I cursed myself for leaving my phone in the car. Damn it….I ALWAYS have it in my pocket, except for right then of course… This tail was gigantic, seemingly well groomed, and down to his calves.What the??? Who does that??? I am not embarrassed to say that I literally speed walked to my car to get my phone, but by the time I unlocked the stupid thing and got the camera on he was already tucking that bad boy up under himself as he settled into the driver’s seat. The guy in the car next to me said he didn’t know what was funnier, the guy with the tail, or my frantic attempt to get a picture. Needless to say, I am totally on the lookout for Tail Guy all summer at the Wawa!

Then there was the lady with the 1980′s short Pat Benetar hair – ala the Love is a Battlefield video – at the Rite Aid. I wouldn’t have even noticed her if not for the awesome 1980′s braided tail she had hanging down…and not off the back of her head, but from directly behind her right ear. It was a scraggly mess of a braid that hung down to almost her rib cage. Whoa Nelly was it ever a beaut! I even had my cell phone all set to take a pic, but lo and behold her 8 year old son with his Sun-In Mohawk noticed what I was about to do…which ruined it for me. Again, Damn it…and again, who does that?

A few weeks ago we pulled up to the Liquor store, and some guy (who was about 23) walks up, sticks his hands into the cigarette butt recepticle outside, scoops them all out, stuffs them in his pockets like nothing ever happened, and strolls away. It was one of the very few times in my life that I was actually speechless, as was my daughter. (Yeah, that’s right, I brought her to the liquor store. Get over it)
I have to say that my husband wasn’t fazed in the least, but then again not a whole lot fazes him. We had to sit in the car for a few minutes so I could actually process what I just watched. Who does that??? If I saw that in NYC, I know I wouldn’t even blink, but in my sweet little town? What??? I’m sure he and his other homeless friends that live behind the 7-11 had a butt-smoking bonanza that night. Ewww other people’s spent smokes? And like 100 of them? Good luck with the diseases he probably caught – although he likely already had the gamut covered.

There’s also the lady at my exercise class who is not only always 1-2 counts ahead of the rest of us, but actually incorporates her own moves. Everyday I try to get away from her, but she just keeps getting in my force field and makes me look at her. Does she not realize that the rest of us are not where she is? Does she hear a totally different beat than the rest of us? It’s annoying…very annoying. I’d say who does that, but there is always one in every class.

I have an awesome “Who Does That?” story from a work meeting the other day, but I believe I could get in trouble for posting about that. You’ll just have to read about itin my book someday, I guess. I will just say that I have sat in those kinds of meetings for 17 years and that was one.of.the.best.EVER!

Yesterday my husband noticed that someone stole our shovels. Yes, some jackass came onto our property and stole our shovels…not one, but both of them! That’s what really led me to this posting today, because who does that??? Is there a run on handing in stolen shovels at the pawn shop? Did they really need to dig a hole that badly? Shovels? Seriously? Come on! Needless to say, I had to scoop bamboo leaves yesterday in the blazing heat with a snow shovel. I looked about as ridiculous as you are picturing. Don’t forget to picture the cursing I was doing either.

I could keep going, but this post is long enough. I think I will start posting my “Who Does That?” moments from now on. If I have to notice this crazy shit everyday, I think I should be generous and share it! You’re welcome in advance!

I should just bring bail money!

I know I have basically no patience in life. It’s not like that’s a revelation of any sort, but when I go out in public (like shopping) I spend a majority of my time trying to control my blood pressure and fists of death. Where the hell do these people come from and who said they should be allowed out in society without learning some basic principles of common courtesy?

For instance, today I was reminded why I always go to Shop Rite when they open at 7am, as opposed to noon when every crazy person has just left church where they have cleansed their souls of sin, only to decide to start fresh in the grocery aisles. Is it that hard to NOT leave your cart in the middle of the jam packed aisle while you saunter around comparing the price of canned vegetables?? How can you have the gaul to get mad when I try to stand there patiently waiting for you (for about 5 seconds), then decide to slightly move your cart to the left so the rest of us can get by? I do not want your items, just a little space to get away from you.

Is it really neccessary when you have four children with you to stand at the end of the aisle (blocking it, of course) and tell your children one by one exactly what they should go find? It’s like a sick scavenger hunt that the rest of us don’t appreciate. Let your four little slaves do that kind of fun stuff at home please….and yes, they are going to either come back with the wrong thing OR stand in the middle of the aisle themselves yelling “Ma! MOM! This?!?” – it’s inevitable, as are the mumbled curses you will strain to hear me saying as I try to squeeze by.

When it comes to line etiquette, I guess people haven’t heard about that whole “give me a little space” thing some of us actually employ. You do not need to jam your cart a centimeter from my ass so that I cannot even lean over to get something out of my cart or move in any direction whatsoever. Even better, do not jam your cart a centimeter from my ass and then walk away to get the one thing you forgot. Don’t act stunned when you come back and find your cart about 5 feet from where you left it, because that’s where it should be…just be glad I didn’t shove it halfway across the store!

As for you “Cashier Extraordinaire”…I know you hate your job. Nobody gets that more than me because I worked there for 2 years in college – However…I put my items on the belt in a specific order for a reason…because that is the order I wish to bag them in. What exactly strikes you to ignore what is at the front of the belt and reach five deep for an item to scan? If I wanted to bag my produce with a cleaning product, I would have placed them together in the first place…but I did not. Also, don’t look so insulted when I tell your bagger that I will do it myself. I have a method…and he or she apparently does not…at least not one that I would ever understand.

Finally, when you see me unloading a never ending myriad of bags into my car, in a semi-empty parking lot, don’t put your blinker on for my spot…especially when there are plenty of other spots to be had. I am only going to look at you, then directly at the many other spots you could park in, then move slower than I have in recent memory. I don’t care if I’m truly in a rush because I will act like I’ve got allllllll day. In the amount of time you sat there, you could have been half way through the store already and gotten a little extra exercise to boot!

Don’t even get me started on my trips to the local WalMart…I could write volumes on what goes on there. Those are other stories for other days, I suppose.