…that invented those GOD-DAMNED rubber-nubbed yellow “speed bump strips” that sprang up virtually OVERNIGHT outside of EVERY Mutha-Fuckin’ retail establishment that has shopping carts (“Buggies” for you Southern Folk); I mean—REALLY?! Were “runaway shopping carts” THAT much of a problem I wanna know?
Since Peggy “works a real job”, then “somebody” has to do pretty much all of the shopping here in the Jones household; that SOMEBODY is ME.
So I come outta the grocery store last week, a dozen eggs (I THOUGHT) safely sequestered in their nice Styrofoam conveyance—the one that got them intact on their long journey from outta the chicken’s ass, then a few hunnert miles in the back of a tractor trailer, into the store, onto the shelf, into my cart, through the checkout line, back into the cart—then OVER that testicle-jarring berm strip; as I was unloading the victuals into the back of my old SUV, there’s the egg carton, LEAKING from a broken egg! And yeah—I’m one of those people that checks EVERY fuckin’ egg in a given carton of eggs BEFORE I put it in my cart, thanks for asking…
Those fuckin’ strips—what’s WITH those things ANYWAY?! I’ll bet that I personally have been to the grocery store and/or someplace where I wheeled a “buggy” out to my vehicle at LEAST 15,000 times in my 58 years on this ball o’ shite—I can’t remember NEVER EVER “losing control of my shopping cart” (discuss amongst yourselves); have YOU? Put that item FIRMLY in the “Solutions to problems you never knew you HAD” checklist.
Oh yeah—let’s not EVEN get into the tooth-rattling, filling-loosening shock waves that occur as you go OVER those fuckin’ things; reminds me of the old wooden roller coaster at Coney Island—makes me want to LET GO of the freakin’ cart and LET it “run away” momentarily.
Thanks, you nameless RETARD; I hope your legs grow together!