f r o z e n - v o d k a v6.11
02.07.03 || 1
God, I hate holidays. Especially holidays when people decide they need to stock up on certain items from the local grocery store. Every time a holiday approaches, I discover that I desperately need to go to the store. I usually discover this either the day before, or on the holiday itself.

Memorial Day weekend, a day when we're meant to remember our fallen veterans. Take a day off to honor the men and women who fought and died for our freedom. The general public takes this to mean: grill cow, drink beer, eat brand name chips. The day before Memorial Day, Cosmo and I went down to the grocery store to pick up a bag of charcoal for her dad, who, like a halfwit, forgot it. We begrudgingly get in the car and cruise down to the store. We knock down 3 old ladies and got in a knife fight for a space 5.2 miles away from the entrance. We wait in line 6 hours to enter the store and the place is worse than Magic Mountain in mid-summer. We knock down some pregnant ladies, and I use a toddler as a step-stool to reach the last bag of charcoal. With only one item, we pick our way over trampled bodies, rotting corpses, and men in rags begging us to tell their wives they died bravely, to the end of the express line. Express?? I was braiding my leg hair by the time we get to the checkout!! By then, the frat boy in front of us had yet to make up his mind as to what type of cheap piss he wanted a keg of, and held the line up another 15 minutes as he went over the pros and cons of Coors Light ~V~ Miller Genuine Draft. This was the breaking point for the chollo behind us, who pulled out his gat and sprayed the crowd. Cosmo and I hit the floor in time to avoid death by bullet. Finally, we get to the checker, who can't scan our charcoal for some reason. Of course, he calls Gimpy McBlind, the bag boy, who shuffles off in search of the home shelf of our store brand briquets. 9 days later, he shuffles back, babbling about his hump itching and spits out a price of $10.99. We knew he had probably looked at the sticker for the Ultra-Mega bag of charcoal, but we're desperate to get out of there, so we fling a $20 at the checker and flee.

By this time, Cosmo's parents had filed a missing person's report. Mine never realized I'd gone anywhere to begin with.

This time, we'll beat them! We're going to the store T W O days before a holiday!! Wish us luck!!

<< || >>




>journal

>friends

>credits