One Dad's Life

Some People's Kids

I like to grocery shop.  My wife does not.  There are a lot of reasons for this, primarily because I like to cook, I think, but I also find it relaxing.  In contrast to the stereotypical white sale frenzy where everyone is fighting over that last matching pillow case, there are rarely any confrontational events.  Unless you count that one struggle over the PERFECT mango at Dierbergs.  Mangoes are really good, and hard to get good ones in St. Louis!

So yesterday, I found myself at a local grocers, picking up a few essential items for dinner.  I was ready to go and was standing in a check-out, with my handy-dandy little basket sitting on the belt already.  I was just minding my own business, like you are supposed to do, in the line when suddenly the lady in front of me STARTED GOING THROUGH MY HANDY-DANDY LITTLE BASKET!

My eyebrows shot up so fast, they nearly knocked my authentic 80's eye-wear RIGHT OFF MY FACE.

"Um, can I help you with something?"  I asked in a perplexed, shocked, and slightly irritated way.  I learned something about myself, as I stood there watching this scene.   I learned that I don't like people going through MY HANDY-DANDY LITTLE BASKET!  In fact, the more I thought about it, the LESS I liked it!

Indignantly, the lady replied, "I'm just seeing what you have in there.  DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT!!!???"

Well, thanks to what I recently learned about myself, I knew exactly how to reply!

"YES!!!!  I think I DO have a problem with that!"

She was a little taken aback, in spite of herself.  Apparently a little hurt at this chastisement for fondling MY groceries, she replied (a little less indignantly, but not too much):

"Well, I was really just trying to see if your frozen stuff was still cold. We've been in line a while..."

As if that makes it all better.  Some people's kids.

I'm Not As Nice As You Think I Am

Frequently, when I'm walking down the street, people will come up to me and say things like, "Hey, you're that nice guy from The Internet!"  Then I have to act all surprised that I was recognized, thank them for noticing, sign my name on whatever they want signed, and tell their kids to "stay in school."  Stuff like that.  Fame rules!  Even as a teen, I'd get that "you're such a nice guy!" all the time...except it would be followed by "you're like a brother to me"... that's probably a whole different story, though. The problem is, I've been getting that "nice guy" thing for too long, and it just isn't really working out for me. "Nice guys" are boring and don't get invited to all the great parties.

I think I need to be "edgier." 

Of course, this will require a bit of a remake of my "nice guy" image.  So, I'm going to start a new series today called, "I'm Not As Nice As You Think I Am" to help dispel the whole "nice guy" image.

So, let's kick the series off with driving.

Everyday, I commute on I-70, north of downtown St. Louis.  The driving on I-70 is, how to put it, competitive. At certain times during the night, some people even shoot at their "competitors!" That's right, the winner gets to live!  Fun times.

The problem with all the competitive driving is that another word for competitive drivers on I-70 would possibly be "idiots."   Some days, I'd like to shoot the idiots.  Of course, that is generally frowned upon, though I HAVE seen the police on the side of the road with their guns drawn.  I'm pretty sure the car they had pulled over was full of idiots.

Seeing how actually shooting the idiots is probably not a good idea, despite the obvious benefits to society, I needed to work out another way to deal with the idiots.  For years, I've tried to telekinetically cause the offending drivers to drive right into a ditch, but only rarely did this work.  I even practiced on forks at home at dinner! Surprisingly, this is harder than they make it look in the movies. It gave me a headache, too.  Eventually, the perfect solution came to me.

Paintball cannons.

Yep.  I rarely have much stuff in my trunk so there is a lot of room for the necessary equipment back there, plus my car has something like 72 horsepower, which means there is plenty of room under the hood where the other several hundred horses should be living.  Do you see where I'm headed with this?  Let me spell it out - fore and aft paintball canons!  How perfect would that be?  You drive like an idiot, and I shoot you with paintball pellets!  Well, your car at least.  Are you swerving from lane to lane, narrowly missing cars in your quest to "get ahead" (which almost never works), then expect to be hit with a volley of primary color paint pellets.   Are you tailgating me so bad I can't see your headlights?  Expect a more colorful radiator grill.

This could actually be considered to be some kind of community service, too.  After about a week, all the idiots will have their car tagged and the regular, decent, upstanding citizen drivers will know which cars to avoid!  Also, the police could save time and hassle by just automatically pulling over the paintball tagged cars.  No doubt, the drivers of a tagged car were doing SOMETHING worthy of a ticket.  They're idiots, right?

How many people do you know with paintball canons mounted in their car for their commute?  No one you say?  See how I am not nice?  GGGGGRRRRRRRR.

Now that's edgy.