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| Hunting Good Will
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| Added on 10/17/06 by
Betsy
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If the Olympics should come to Chicago as Mayor Daley is hoping, I will contact the city's Olympic committee because I have the perfect idea for a new competitive sport. If the Olympic Committee gets a better gift bag from Tulsa and we are out of the running, I may contact NBC because my idea would also be a divine reality show.
If you watched the Atlanta Olympics you will remember the cheesy back stories about starving Eastern block mommies who sent their buxom baby off to shot put boarding school so she could have a shot at the good life.
Picture Chicago 2008, the cheesy camera fog parts and reveals the doors of Goodwill. It's 8:50 and the athletes are taking their positions, climbing out of all manner of hoopty and limping to the starting gate.
There's the Pall Mall Paul who talks through a hole in his throat but can jog like a pro when he spies anything that plugs in and was mad after 1989.
There's Grandma Jean who pretends to be checking everything over with her bifocals, but is actually switching price tags.
There are the religous chicks who always come in a herd and can never seem to satitate their thirst for ankle length denim skirts.
And then there is me. And just like them something happens to me once I get inside those doors.
I feel a rush of adrenaline and once my hands hit the handle of the cart I am off like Jacki Joyner's press ons.
This adrenaline has some unfortunate side effects. I get a little violent. People can see this and it works for me because when they see me coming they do seem to step aside.
It's not my fault that some people can't pick up on that and if they are standing in my path they are risking their lives.
Take yesterday, I was checking out after a disapointing run through the store, then I saw the Russian mobster stock man putting a bunch of Cabbage Patches up on the toy shelf. (Goodwill hires a lot of reformed types, including those whose reform was state mandated and done in an institution. This guy speaks no English, is about 63 and has a posse of friends that come in and walk with him around the store as he does his job. They surround him when he is approached by a customer and they all wear their pants so high their belt doubles as support for their sagging old man boobies.)
Anyway, I gotta get there and grab the dolls, the baby needs a new Britax you see.
It's not my fault she was standing in my way. Perhaps my cart did burst her bubble of personal space, but personal space bubbles are burst as soon as you roll into Goodwill. You have to leave manners at the door. This chick didn't realize that and was truly offended that I rolled past her quickly.
She had the nerve to do that exasperated exhale and eye roll thing.
I can deal with a lot. I'm actually a very laid back person. But I can't stand the huff and roll.
I turned around, baby Maggie under one arm old Cabbies under the other. And screamed- I didn't mean to scream- but the store went quiet and the store is never quiet. Even the old mobster stopped to watch.
"Chill the fuck out,"
That's what I said.
Then she said the other thing that mad me instantly want to stomp on her head.
"Why don't you."
So I said what any responsible suburban Naperville mommy
would say,
"Shut the fuck up bitch."
As the adrenaline flowed to my limbs I realized. If I hadn't been raised better I would probably be in jail.
So I had to leave, not right away of course I can't look like I am running out- what if today I see her again- I can't let her think I am weak.
Blogging is good therapy I am realizing. Once your issues are out there in black and white, it's hard to deny you are a nut case.
So see the drama NBC is missing, screw Big Brother how about Hunting Good Will.
Tags: Vintage Cabbage Patch Lot  , Cabbage Patch |
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