Trip to store during the Christmas season to purchase gifts for loved ones in my life went without event.

Never thought you would read that in my diary now did you.

I�m the guy who could write a two thousand word essay about how my day went all to shit because I stubbed my toe. The same man who could devote an entire entry to my blind, searing hatred for Old Navy commercials. I�m the guy who has created such conspiracy theories as the Canadian invasion of the US, what women really do in the bathroom, and the revolution of my body parts.

You know if there was something, anything, there to rant about I would be the one to do it. Even if I have to invent shit I can do it.

Yet still this Christmas shopping trip was without a single event to even mention. Nothing to go off on a tangent about, no one acting like a complete ass, not a single solitary problem to even go off on a tangent about.

Nada

And if you believe that then you really haven�t been paying attention to this diary. Of course I had something stupid happen to me when I went shopping. Especially figuring what time of year it is, it�s bound to happen.

Hell I figure by now I would have to create these stupid situations just to appease my fan base on here. See I figure for anyone who sticks around long enough to slap me on there buddy list, they have to have a little bit of a masochistic streak running through them. I mean come on, look at the shit I subject all of you to on a regular basis. I�m sure I don�t need to run down the list of what I�m speaking of, I�ll receive the psychiatric bill in do time.

With that in mind you all expect a certain level of�.crankiness. I�m like the complete breakfast for ranting loon�s diaryland wide. Just poor some milk on me and serve me up with a side of toast. I�m the daily dose of Vitamin Crazy for a significant sized crowd.

Then again I don�t really need that kind of expectation to go off on wild rants like today�s entry will eventually turn into. I just do it because, well let�s face the facts, I�m pretty damn good at bitching about shit that really doesn�t matter. Hell I do it just because it�s fun to me, I�m that easily entertained. Just with an audience it doesn�t look crazy like if it was just me spewing this shit out in an empty room. Especially since my level of crazy would eventually procure a machine that produces laugh tracks at a push of a button for just those occasions.

Speaking of which how cool would it be if you had access to a laugh track for those moments that friends and family stare at you blankly after a joke? I say life would be so much better if each of us had a laugh track and a theme music ready at a moments notice.

Boss doesn�t appreciate your brand of humor when you look at a picture of his wife and compliment her on having a fat ass? Well hell buddy you need a laugh track to smooth the tension. See a fine chica down the bar you just have to know, but don�t know how to approach? Simple my friend, let your box-o-theme music 2000 do the work for you. You�ll have her cooing at you in no time as you saunter up to her with some smooth Barry White or Isaac Hayes playing in the background. In a moment of passionate anger you slaughtered your wife and her secret lover aka your brother in a bloody mess that requires immediate attention and means of body disposal?

Yeesh can�t help you there pal. Call a lawyer and don�t use me as an alibi.

And there you go, one of my famous tangents. And this is where I segue poorly to get back to the point of this entry.

All and all the trip did run pretty smooth; the store was amazingly quiet and reserved. I guess the real insane panic shopping doesn�t start for another week or so. I managed to pick out some decent gifts for a first round of Christmas shopping while pressed for time. I picked up a DVD of The Producers for my brother. Which was all I could find that is outside of a store dedicated to nothing but books. My mother so far the shopping hasn�t gone good. Small gifts so far, nothing to grandiose to right home about. A pair of sterling silver earrings, a small portfolio for her work, and nifty little basket with a glass bottle of liquid bath wash, body wash, and lavender soap.

Over all I�m pleased with my selections, though I could have done better if I didn�t pass up a few things. Like that Patton DVD for my brother or the eight CD collection set that was the best classical music of eight different famous artists in that area. Or the copy of The Right Stuff because I wasn�t sure how my mom felt about that movie which I come to find out later she really does love that movie.

Amazingly enough all this shipping was incident free. No one loitering in aisles while there car sits at an angle effectively blocking it off, nothing at like that. My problem arose when I finally hit the check out lane.

See now if I was paying attention instead of coveting the only copy of High Fidelity on VHS I found in the store. Which I guilty bought for myself when I intended to spend that money on presents, but then again it was only six bucks so it�s not like I just bought a full season of shows on DVD. I would have probably noticed the first sign that the check out lane I had chosen, merely because it was the closest that was open, was being run by a rookie register jockey.

Actually the first �sign� of this was pointed out by another cash register when they ask the lady running my lane to turn on her lane light. You know the one I�m talking about, the number above the cash register that lets you know the lane is open for business when the light was on. I didn�t notice this fact, and later I came to wish I had then maybe I would have picked another lane.

You see, as I have mentioned before, I have a Debit like card that has all my cash on there. Usually when I head to the store I have absolutely no cash on me, just the card. And when I leave the store I usually like to have a hand full of that in cash because last time I checked there isn�t a credit scan machine on any of the buses. That and a few small businesses in town I go to don�t have the capability of using my Debit card.

So cash in hand is the obvious choice for me. Not so obvious to the cashier.

I try to make this part of my buying experience as easy for the cashier as possible. I state what I want in a even, easy to understand tone. I want all this taken off the Debit card I�m holding and I want this much cash back in return. I even do quick calculations in my head to tell them how much money I should get back after I�ve paid for my goods.

It�s simple, I spent &58.23, I have $132, that would mean the change would be $73.77. We are not talking about rocket science here, I can�t think of a means to make this any simpler for them.

Does it help out when you got a rookie register jockey to explain all this to? Oh hell no.

Despite my assistance that there was $132 dollars on the card, she manages to punch in the wrong numbers. And we are not talking about a simple �oops I got some of the numbers mixed up� kind of mistake. We are talking about �what part of your ass should I speak to for you to understand� kind of mistake. Some how in her mind $132 said three times in a row translates to $24.50.

Hhhmmmm $24.50 doesn�t cover my 58.23 bill, in fact it�s a little over half the money I actually need.

So I stand there perplexed wondering where the numbers 2, 4, 5, 0 came into this factor while she called a manager on the phone to come over and help her. Since she put in the wrong numbers she can�t seem to figure out how to back out of it and punch in the real numbers.

Oh and just because I forgot to mention it, after each time I said I have $132 in my Debit card I followed it up with �I would like the remainder of that money in cash� each time.

Now apparently I�m asking too much of a woman who mistakes my saying I have $132 in my account for $24.50, so I should have just assumed she repressed the �cash back� part of the sentence. So when everything was fixed, the manager disappearing faster then Morton Downey Jr.�s career, and I pass my Debit card through the machine again and give my pin number. It rings up to the grand total of $58.23 taken from my card, nothing else.

Excuse me, could you wait here for just a minute. I need to run back and pick up a nine iron from your sports section so I may beat the living tar out of you.

I point out her �mistake� this time and ask her could you please give me what I asked for in the first time. She smiled, apologized profusely to me which I graciously accepted, then I inwardly groaned when I saw her hand raise up to that telephone yet again.

By now I�ve been in this check out lane for a grand total of twenty minutes and I was the first one in line. That should have been a hint to me also. The people behind me are getting quite obviously upset which means I�m taking the heat for this shit when I�m just as frustrated as them. Though the people last in line had the right idea, the packed all there shit up in there cart and moved to the lane next to us.

Smart people. Run while you still can.

Finally the manager comes back and shows her how to back out of all of it yet again so I may swipe my card, yet again, and this time finally get it my fucking way.

You�re a nice lady, but Burger King you aint sista!

By time I was pushing my cart out of the lane and on my way to head home I noticed the people originally in my lane where just then paying for there groceries. In a lane, when I first started all this, was five people deep.

And despite all this crap I still have to hit Wal-Mart tomorrow to look for some movies I couldn�t find at Meijer along with exploring for other gifts.

I fear for what�s left of my sanity.

It's about time - Wednesday, Jul. 07, 2004
An Honor for Chrome - Friday, Feb. 20, 2004
A great loss - Monday, Oct. 20, 2003
a terrible announcement. - Tuesday, Sept. 09, 2003
Chrome speaks: - Friday, Sept. 05, 2003