Now, you know I love women if for no other reason that I’m married to one and she tells me I do. But even though I’ve frequently defended the distaff side in my regular columns, you’re really starting to get on my last good nerve.
So there I am standing behind a middle-aged woman in the Hallmark Store checkout line when the clerk rings her up for $5.14. Of course, this immediately entails a Coast Guard sponsored search for the $0.14 in the nether reaches of her massive handbag – a process which requires emptying the purse, scouring the nether reaches for two dimes and carefully placing them on the counter in a perfectly symmetrical fashion.
Having finally paid, now she decides to refill her voluminous valise item by item while standing directly in front of the counter the entire fricken time. Exasperated, I simply reached over her and completed my transaction as she refused to move an inch.
And this kind of thing happens at least once a week. It’s getting to the point where I look forward to my weekly comic book store visits because I know there won’t be any women within 50 yards of the place.
Stop it! Life ain’t a fricken CTA bus. Paying with exact change won’t get you on the fast track to heaven, but it just might get you a swift kick in the…