"WE HAVE A BLEEDER"

Why is it that when Greg is in a hurry, two things happen: a) everyone else in town immediately downshifts into first gear, and b) people immediately stuff their heads up their asses?

Some examples from Thursday Feb. 13th, 12:00-1:30 p.m.:

1) I'm trying to turn left at an intersection and there is a pedestrian in the crosswalk, crossing the street. Sounds simple and absolutely harmless, right? Nope! First off, this person is bundled up like a fucking Sherpa guide humping Mt. Everest. Never mind that yesterday was one of the mildest days we've seen here for two god-damn weeks! If you are THAT fucking cold, see your doctor or gain some weight. I know from personal experience that an extra 30 pounds is a great insulator. Ever seen a walrus wearing a fucking coat? NO! Secondly, this hump was moving a fucking snails pace across the street! I counted 22 steps to cross ONE lane. I could have chopped both my fucking legs off and pulled my bloody torso across the street FASTER! All of us have to cross the street now and again. As you are doing so, put yourself in the drivers seat - literally. MOVE YOUR ASS before a black-hearted son-of-a-bitch like me runs you over!!

2) I pull up to the automatic car wash, feed the cash into the box, and wait for the car already in the bay to get done. All of a sudden, back-up lights come on! Jesus Christ! LOOK OUT! What the HELL?! Did she change her mind in mid-wash? But then I see the problem - somehow she has managed to plant the left front wheel to the OUTSIDE of the wheel guide thingy, while the left rear wheel is in between the guides where it should be. Nice. So Mario here has decided she is going to BACK UP while the spray arm is circling, and re-position the car. Riiiight. The attendant has noticed and is standing at the exit door of the bay and is waving his arms around as if he's waving a plane onto the runway. The stooge in the car is glancing around like a fucking bobble head, trying to figure out the attendant's hand signals AND trying to watch the spray arm AND jockey the car. The car is lurching back and forth, brake lights then back-up lights, wipers whipping wildly at the windshield ('cause you know this is the same motherfucker that has her wipers on turbo speed when it starts to drizzle!), brake lights, LURCH!, back-up lights, LURCH!,.......FUCK ME!!

3) Then there's the EXPRESS LANE at Schnucks. I'm about 4 people back of this Grade A moron who is fucking everybody in line behind him. Keep in mind that suspended from the ceiling directly overhead is a sign the size of Anna Nicole's ASS that reads "EXPRESS LANE, 20 Items or Less, CASH ONLY". This inconsiderate, and apparently illiterate, shopper has about 40 ITEMS on the fucking belt! Yeah, you might sneak through 21 or even 22 items at a 20-item-or-less lane, but for Christ's sake - 40?! You must think everyone in the fucking place can't count past 9. Then I realize the moron is paying for some of the groceries with food stamps! Oh fuck, here we go! Does the sign read FOOD STAMPS anywhere? Fuck NO! And what's going through his head "Let's see, I'm on food stamps, let's go to the most expensive grocery store in town". Hellll-llo?! Hey, all I want to do is pay for my two packages of candy and bottle of wine and hit the road. Back to the moron - now he's pulling out COUPONS!! And now my head is about to FUCKING IMPLODE!! Again, pay attention class, does the sign read anything about COUPONS? NO, NO, and FUCK NO!! At this point I'm ready to sink a rusty fork into the guys neck. Intercom announcement: "CLEAN UP ON THE EXPRESS LANE, . . . CLEAN UP ON THE EXPRESS LANE, WE HAVE A BLEEDER."

Here's the express lane sign at Greg's Groceries: "EXPRESS LANE, 10 Items or LESS, DEBIT CARDS ONLY, NO CASH, NO COINS, NO CHECKS, NO COUPONS, NO FOOD STAMPS, NO MORONS, NO LAZY EYES, NO BELL BOTTOMS, NO ORTHOPEDIC SHOES, NO ADULT DIAPERS, NO ASIANS, NO SKANKS."

Happy Valentine's Day!
-Greg