Showing posts with label big women in motorized shopping carts at grocery stores. Show all posts
Showing posts with label big women in motorized shopping carts at grocery stores. Show all posts

Friday, February 24, 2017

OLD MAN GRUMBLES






Old women can complain about things; but it doesn’t come off the same way as old men grumbling.   When we grumble we are looked at differently:  advancing senility – crotchety old bastard – old man yells at clouds….. 





My wife and I went shopping yesterday and she complained that I kept bitching under my breath.
  
So here it is: am I wrong?

1.    We were food shopping in Walmart and two women were in with dogs: one with a boxer on a leash and another carrying this little harry bastard in her arms.  The dogs took one look at each other and went bat shit.   Why the hell would anyone carry a dog into a shopping center – especially one with food?   Are they looking for attention?  For every person that comes up and says ‘what a cute dog,’ there are twenty that are looking and thinking ‘what an asshole, dogs don’t belong in here.’   Don’t even get me started about dogs in restaurants.

2.    Women are absolutely unconscious when they are shopping.  They park their carts in the middle of the isle and then stand in front of a display and meditate while people are lined up on both sides waiting to get by – they seem totally unconscious that there are other people around them.    Either that, are they run into friends and stand at an intersection talking and unconsciously blocking traffic from every isle.

3.    Huge women driving motorized shopping carts are damn right dangerous.   They come down a narrow isle with the attitude of ‘get out of my way, can’t you see me coming?’


4.    This seems to be a rave against women; but in actual facts men don’t do these things.   However, I get really confrontational when I see a man packing a pistol in a public place.  I would walk up to him and offer to protect him until he gets back to his car, just in case the Walmart greeter or one of the women cashiers try to attack him – but I know I have to go home with my wife and would catch hell.
 
5.    Then when we checked out the young cashier puts my bag of Fritos (the other food group) in the shopping bag full of can goods.


I figure once a man has moved into his seventies and beyond he doesn’t owe anybody an apology for ole-man-bitching.   It is one of our last pleasures.
the Ol’Buzzard