Idiocy: January 2010 Archives

I had to stop by the drugstore on my way home as Chris has the plague, I narrowly escaped the worst of it, and when we both talk we sound three cigarette puffs away from having voice boxes installed in our throats. (Apropos of nothing, I particularly love my voice like this because I sound like Joan Jett when I sing in the car).

So I run into the drugstore after the a.m. drive and grab some throat lozenges and some quick breakfast food items - oh and that bag of avocado chips because I was hungry - and make my way up to the register. I had my hands full with my wallet, my phone, my keys (because I now dislike big bags and have for about a year now) and in the mayhem apparently dropped one of my long leather gloves on the floor without noticing.

"I believe you dropped your glove, miss," said a man behind me.

"Oh, thanks," I replied and quickly grabbed it up off the floor.

"You didn't do that on purpose did you?" He asked. He reminded me of the bus driver from Wii's "Animal Crossing." The one that tells you to wash your pits.

"Um, NO," I replied, my face scrunched up in WTF mode.

"You know, because women do that in the movies all the time."

I prayed to God for Him to put a gigantic celestial hand over my mouth because HOO BOY the words "Really? In what movie does a young woman with a husband at home drop her glove in front of a way older male downgrade so as to have him oogle her arse? Because I'D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT MOVIE THAT IS" were begging to fly from my mouth.

The remark wasn't flattering; it was some sort of implied accusation that totally insulted both my taste and my character, which was why I didn't just roll my eyes and smile. No, instead, I flashed him my NRA card and gave him A Look. I'd have showed him a piece, but it probably would not have been the one he anticipated.

(*Yeah, not taking chances with Google search on that one.)

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