It must be something about December.
December 21st, 2007
Do you remember this post? I feel just like that today.
Exactly. Like. That.
If I hear “it’s the Most! Wonderful! Time! of the Year!” once more, I’m going to rip someone’s throat out with my teeth. And that’s if I’m feeling charitable. I went to Wal-Mart during my lunch break today, the Friday before Christmas. NEVER do this. Opt instead for brain surgery without anesthesia, opt for Chinese water torture, opt for being run over by a busload of overweight tourists from New Hampshire – anything besides this insane scheme. When I finally escaped, there was a group of high-school-aged, trying-to-look-cool-and-thuggish youths swaggering in, reeking of braggadocio. I’d’ve just loved them to try accosting me; I was fit to beat something to a quivering mass of apologetic hamburger. I glared and marched, my heels clacking like battledrums on the crosswalk, just daring them to even look my way.
They walked right on past.
Bastards.
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