Mama Needs a Cosmo

I know that yesterday was “‘What Into The Hell’ Wednesday,” but I’ve got another tick and a funny story about how I picked it off, and I couldn’t wait until next Wednesday to tell it.

My biggest pet peeve is with people who pop their gum. I’d rather eat foil and scratch my fingers down a blackboard at the same time than listen to someone pop their gum–suffice to say that it’s a sound that I loathe.

My second biggest pet peeve is with people who don’t respect my personal space. I don’t do well in the presence of a “close talker,” and don’t get me started on close-talking spitters.

Last night at the grocery store, I encountered someone who did both.

Sometimes when I’m grocery shopping without the boys, I choose to stand in the longest line for checking out. This gives me time to enjoy the opportunity of thumbing through the tabloids at a leisurely pace, without having to scream “put that down!” or “get back here!” or “I said no candy!”

But my choice to do this last night came with a price.

The woman who got in line behind me had been somewhat of a line jumper. She was in a hurry–not a good thing when most grocery stores are packed with the “after work” crowd at 6:00pm. And she picked MY line to stand and fidget and do her grumbling.

And pop her gum.

I tried to ignore it by diving into the George Clooney vs. Fabio updates, but I found myself reading the intro sentence over and over, with no retention.

Pop . . . pop . . . pop . . . And then came the cell phone call.

And while she was balancing her phone in one hand and doing whatever with the other, she managed to bump me with her basket. Hard. Four times.

OH. It was SOOO on.

The first couple of times, I used my butt to push the cart backwards. The third time, I looked back at her, but she was so engrossed in her cell phone conversation that she didn’t even see me. The last time, I gently moved the basket backwards, then stepped out from between my basket and hers, entering the “people go on this side” space and exiting the “baskets stay on that side” space. As I did this, I grabbed my purse, which also happened to be doubling as a tote bag and was filled with a bunch of items that I’d brought home from work. (I’ve got two words for you: LOADED and HEAVY.)

And as I waited for the diva behind me to get so close to me that I could feel her breath on my neck, I whipped my bag around onto my shoulder, and its forward motion knocked into her arm and forced the phone from her hand and onto the ground.

CosmoMama: 1           Gum-popping-space-invader: 0

As she gasped at me, I turned around, and with an unapologetic look on my face, I said, “Oh. I didn’t realize you were THAT close to me.”

Oohhh! Was she pissed!! But the folks behind her didn’t seem to mind my antics.

Right after my planned attack, it was my turn to check out, and by then she’d collected her phone and told whoever was on the other end that she was not very pleased with what I’d done. (Obscenities removed.)

I had to contain myself until I was inside of my car, and by then I was laughing so hysterically that I almost didn’t realize I’d put the car in reverse.

Like the title of my blog notes: I’m “trying” to take the high road, but I don’t necessarily do it all the time.

*Evil snicker*