People with no shopping cart etiquette
You are bound to encounter one of the following shopping cart offenders while holiday shopping:
The Threesome: It's just you, your shopping cart... and your other shopping cart. You're officially the asshole who goes Christmas shopping alone, but fills two carts. You waddle like a retarded duck with a smaller retarded duck jammed into his little duck colon. Pushing one cart, pulling the other cart. This entire time you've been in my way, and all I am doing is getting toothpaste, socks, a Pantera CD for my grandmother, and some batteries. Lindbergh baby yourself, child. If you can't fit it all into one single cart at a time, bring one of your failure friends to help out.
The Alpha Male: Yeah, we know. You drive a Silver F-350. You took your team to state back in high school. Your son Brady is the toughest kid at his school. Cool, man. You are aware that defensive driving only applies to operating motor vehicles, right? You don't actually need to swerve around me with a disgusted look on your face, or look for signs of timidness when I approach the cashier line with my cart. Cutting someone off and saying "Semper Fi, motherfucker" under your breath, should not even happen on the highway, let alone on Christmas Eve at Kohl's.
The Shopping Cart Abandoner: When the Nazis pushed the Jewish folk off the trains and into The Auschwitz Death Camp, they did not allow time for browsing and chewing retail fat, deciding what to get Marcy and the twins for Hanukkah. Now look, nothing was funny about the Holocaust. Just like nothing is funny about X-mas shopping. Everyone involved is suffering. When an innocent Jewish person would fall onto the ground, unable to walk because of weakness, the Nazis went apeshit, severely beating him for blocking the flow of human traffic. Why do you assume that abandoning your shopping cart in the middle of the thermal socks aisle, and walking 30 feet away to discuss how many pairs of North Face socks you can fit into your children's stockings, is any different? Your cart is blocking innocent, suffering, humans from being able to get to where they need to go.
Newly Engaged Couples that are dressed in matching sweaters with turtlenecks underneath them, who wear Santa hats out in public, and will end up raising children that are pussies.
The Holiday season always seems to bring you closer to long-lost friends and old pals. Most of the time you'll randomly see them while getting a martini at a bar, or out at a favorite restaurant. This is fine and dandy and all, but you absolutely must have a well-rehearsed excuse pertaining to your "grandmother who is sick with liver cancer" ready to go in case you need a reason to bolt. In fact, I suggest you order a vial of liver cancer from the back of the newest Wolverine comic book and give it to your grandmother. Just so you don't feel dishonest. Either way, she is going to be your saving grace if you bump into Anita and Chet (a.k.a. the newly engaged couple.)
See, Chet proposed to Anita on Thanksgiving in front of the entire family. He made a formal announcement. Kinda like they do in India, or in movies about billionaires. But Anita is BUZZING about this, and thus she has no interest in your Christmas shopping war stories or winter plans. She wants to talk about the wedding. And she wants to talk to Chet about the wedding, with you watching.
They finish each others sentences. They splooge out diatribes about the wedding plans. Of course she picked his sweater out for him (the one with the checkered reindeer and geometric snowflakes on it). Hell, she even nurses his cold sores for him.
Four types of Christmas spirits, and four things they might say during Christmas dinner
The Soccer-Mom Christmas Spirit:
The Obsessed-with-Denzel-Washington-Movies Christmas Spirit:
The Cousin with the Low-Brow Controversial Pop-culture Zings Christmas Spirit:
The Hipster Christmas Spirit:
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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