I was supposed to race a 5k on Sunday. I went to bed Saturday night feeling a bit stuffy, but assumed I’d be fine Sunday morning. Unfortunately, the minute I laid down to go to bed I started coughing and could not fall asleep. I was up all night and felt horrible. By 12 or so I knew I would not be racing my 5k.
I slept the entire morning and went to work at the running store around noon. Honestly, I’m not too disappointed. Sickness happens and I’m feeling a lot better now. I was able to get in a rather pleasant 4.5 miler this morning. It wasn’t fast or anything, but it also wasn’t terrible considering that I’m still coughing all over the place. I have another one planned for April 23, so whatever.
On to other more interesting things:
Friday night, I went to Target to stock up on some essentials. Puppy treats, Perrier, conditioner, boxed wine. Shit like that. I made it through the store without too much drama (I’m not a big fan of shopping) and was thrilled to not have to wait in line for a cashier. Once I got everything loaded up on the conveyor belt a lady with her kids gets in line behind me. I think nothing of it. Until…
The kid sprays my Raspberry Lemonade with some sort of “spray”. I couldn’t tell what it was. Bug spray, cologne, mace? No idea.
Just as the cashier is about to scan it, I tell her, “I don’t want that.” She’s like, “What?”. I then tell her LOUDLY how the kid sprayed something on my juice. She looks at the bottle and notices that it is greasy on the side. We then both note the smell.
So, I bet you’re wondering wtf the mom is doing through all of this? Well, the crack-head looking bitch (seriously I had about 30 lbs on her) is just looking in her basket like nothing fucking happened. The cashier continues with my stuff. When I go to scan my debit card, the dumb-ass mother is standing right in front of the credit card scanner thingy:
STILL OBLIVIOUS TO THE FACT THAT I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO ENJOY DELICIOUS JUICE BECAUSE OF HER FAT, UGLY KID.
The cashier has to tell her to back the fuck up and I finish up my transaction and give the bitch a dirty look. Before I’m even done she’s arguing with the cashier over some $5 sweatpants. 5. Dollar. Sweatpants. She couldn’t pay attention to what her kids were doing over $5 sweatpants. For serious?
In retrospect, I should have caused a scene. I was dressed cute, had on some makeup, and I was in a decent mood. This Target is gay! gay! gay! and I would’ve gotten tons of gay guys on my side. They understand wanting to pick up your prescriptions, boxed wine, and juice in peace on a random Friday night. (Yes. My life is pathetic ,but seriously. What did you do Friday night?)
The saddest part of this whole thing is that I did not have juice again until Sunday evening. All because of some ugly, crack-headed looking mom letting her fat kid spray my juice. (Yes. I’m still angry.)