On Monday at about 9 pm I decided the time was right for some grocery shopping (yes, I know this is weird). Surprisingly, others apparently had the same idea, as there was a bit of a line at the checkout. In retrospect, I should have known they could only be crazies. The woman in front of me offered to let me go ahead of her, but I declined, thinking it would probably be really mean to make others wait while the checkout girl scanned my numerous packages of Petit Ecolier cookies and Diet Coke.
Boy was I wrong.
The woman launched into a rage against the checkout girl, accusing her of scanning the same item double and triple (this did not happen - with nothing better to do, I was watching the scanning as it occurred, and trust me, it was all kosher). She ordered her to re-scan all the items, then decided to take everything out of her bags to be counted. After that she decided she didn't need any of these groceries after all. And she tried to enlist me in her battle against the checkout girl.
This woman looked like a crazy, old version of Grace Jones. On crack. I will never look at a picture of Grace the same way again. There were overly defined lips, large cheekbones, fierce brows, and winged eye makeup. The hair was actually more Whitney Houston than Grace Jones, though. Oh, and there was a very bad faux-fur coat. It was sad, funny, and annoying at the same time.
Funny how it's the makeup that stayed with me in the wake of this bizarre supermarket experience. Please, if any of you catch me one day at the FoodTown in a ratty fur coat looking like...hmmm...Jocelyn Wildenstein, let's say, take me out back and put me out of my misery with a sack of potatoes. Please, please.