Generic Gas

Reason number 1,000,001 why I hate shopping at discount grocery stores: As I debated whether or not it was safe to buy cheese (I decided it was not) a woman directly in front of me farted. Sure, it is classier to say she “passed gas,” but this was vulgar. It was a loud, wet fart and she didn’t flinch. She didn’t apologize, get red faced or even giggle. My children have been manners. She just continued walking with her cart full of Ducky Charms Cereal and Fay’s Chips. Everyone heard it. She heard it. God knows she felt it. She didn’t care. Telling by her overgrown toe nails and excessive dandruff this woman doesn’t care about life. It is difficult enough to hold my daughter in one arm, my son’s hand in another and unlock a grocery cart. (Are that many people stealing carts that you need .25 deposit? Will a quarter really stop someone?) I don’t need to smell her lunch that didn’t digest properly. I refuse to buy meat or dairy products at this store. I hate bagging my own groceries. So, what the hell was I doing there to begin with? It’s around the corner from my house and I’m not rich. If I was I wouldn’t have needed to return the cart.

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