Dirty groceries

I'm sure the checkout people at the grocery store judge us when we go through. How could they not? I sure as hell would. So no, I hold nothing against them for the state of affairs.

But I will game the system to my advantage.

Take today, for example. I went to Fred Meyer's to open a checking account and do a little shopping. This being my first time, little did I know you can also get a new wardrobe, buy an engagement ring, and have someone circumcised there. This was my chance to dig out the shopping list 'o things I never seem to get around to picking up!

I got almost everything on the list, which was great, until I looked at my cart and realized someone was going to judge me based on this stuff. So I padded out my cart karma (cartma?) with some lettuce and broccoli. But it wasn't going to be enough.

Ok, that's easy, just look for a dude cashier. Even if he's a queer, it won't matter because I'm not attracted to him. Right? And surely I couldn't let the pretty young thing on register 4 see this cart of shame -- as though, if the cart contents were to her liking, she would throw herself at me on the conveyor belt right then and there.

No dudes, but there was a fat old lady on 6. Score! I'm so glad no one but her saw my dandruff shampoo and athlete's foot cream (hey, at least there's no Preparation H). Fortunately that knowledge is kept safely to myself.

Manhood and dignity intact, I've got to go. There's Star Trek on.