Brandon...

In my last post I described an incident that occurred when I ran to get some medicine to help Dav along with one of his ailments. For most people I know, this would've never happened to them, or it would've only been an isolated incident.

Sometimes it pays to live amongst the stupid.

As all kids do, Dav got sick quite a bit when he was first starting out with the whole daycare thing. As such, it seemed we were always dealing with something. Most of the time, our end tables looked kind of like this:

Once Dav's nose started running, it was going for the rest of the month, the next month, and basically lasted until August. Anyhow, it was no surprise that after he got over the illness that caused the incident I mentioned last time he came right back down with something else. So, I once again volunteered to run back up to the store for the goods. After all, something else couldn't go down could it?

(Chh chh chh, shh shh shh, ahh ahh ahh)

So I drive back up to the same store as last time. I park, get to the crosswalk, and make a mad dash for the door to get out of the cursed crosswalk as quick as possible. Once in the store, I get things going mind wise so as to not be caught off guard:

(Let's do this!)

It was a week night, and I took note that there wasn't many people to be had in the store. This time around though, I wasn't just there for the medicinal drink. I had some other items to get, so as I got into the front doors, I grabbed a shopping cart on the way by. I then set off to get the items quickly and efficiently.

All was going well. I was making my way through the rows, having most of the aisles to myself, quickly checking off the list as I got the appropriate item, and the anxiety level over last time was going down. So much so, that I didn't even take note of the loser making his way down the aisle in my direction. This isn't him, but it will give you an idea of what I saw:

(Pseudo "flock of seagulls" hair, Elton John'esque glasses, irrelevant finger point...yup, you're a tool.)

To complete the package, he had his wanna be arm candy, well, on his arm. He was doing that walk where as to say "Check me out and my lady on the arm. I am something." All the while said arm candy was yapping rather loudly on the phone. To give you an idea what she was like, I present this:

(I'm sexy in a way normal people don't understand.)

Anyway, I was paying them no mind. My shopping cart was all the way to the side of the aisle, and I was marveling at how many different choices one has now when attempting to conquer the spice rack. The couple approached and the spunky arm candy came off the arm, and proceeded to pass me first. She was uttering phrases such as "like" and "OMG!" quite frequently. Impressive since I eavesdropped on her conversation for about 4 seconds. But when poser made his way by, he made a point of deviating his line and running into my cart. I was flabbergasted. "Yet another incident is going down over a Pedialyte run?" I thought. But again, I'm not really that confrontational, but when dealing with the galactically stupid, I cannot let things slide. As I've told Elli numerous times, stupid people don't know they're stupid. It's up to people like me to inform them of their stupidness. As such, after the initial shock wore off I commenced to action with the following verbage:

"Easy friend, there's no fire here. No need to push."

At this point, Mr. "Mike 'The Situation' Sorrentino is my hero!" turns and says, "Was up!"

(Seriously, what IS up?)

I don't think of myself as imposing, however I stand close to 6'5" tall. I'm not built like a brick shit house, but I've been told I have a presence. On this particular night, I had on my Carhart stocking hat, a flannel coat, and jeans along with boots. I was tired, probably not clean shaven, and when confronted by this sort of BS, I do get confrontational.

Testosterone both gets people hurt, and hurts people.

As such, I had a popular brand of Paprika in my hand. I let it fall from my hand into the cart, turned rather slowly in poser's direction, and stared at him with everything I had.

"Excuse me?", I bellowed.

At this point arm candy returns, still talking on her phone. She seems to take stock of the situation, and makes a move. Grabbing tool bag's arm, she very directly says to him:

"Brandon. Don't. He'll kill you."

And they retreated rather hastily around the corner and down the way. I chuckled to myself, pushed the cart to checkout, paid, and went home with another story to tell.

And to think, when I was a kid I thought the grocery store was boring.