Tuesday, February 19, 2008

"On priests and puppy dogs," or "Hilary Attacks!"

It's been a couple weeks. How've you been, one or two possible readers? Hope you're well. You know, it's always awkward trying to make a blog post when you have ten people standing in front of you printing, waiting for a class to get out or using the stapler.

One of those places I'm never 100% sure what to do is at the base of an escalator, right next to the entrance for the escalator down to the next floor. If I'm going down and walking right onto the next one, I always find it amusing to judge whether or not I should just barrel through or let a person who is walking up go in front of me. I usually just barrel through because I'm more important than all the other sheep walking about. After work yesterday I was the one walking up as somebody was coming down from the next level, this priest I've seen around campus during my PC Depot days. I'm a good deal away, but he stops, smiles warmly, and waits for me to step into the escalator first.

This isn't a commentary on religion or my rather atheistic views on life, but really, I don't think anybody other than a priest would have not only stopped to let me through when he could have easily gone ahead of me, but been happy to do so. I guess my only semi-point is that it bothers me when people bash priests, because they're almost exclusively damn nice people. It made me feel a little better about stuff after a horrible day of work.

There was this jerk at the grocery store later on, though. I'm standing in line at Dominicks, and having neglected to pick up a cart, I'm carrying a huge, heavy load of food in my arms. Usually this is when the people in front of you scoot their stuff forward on the little conveyor belt, put up the yellow divider and let you put down some stuff. But this well-dressed guy and his hollow-headed well-dressed girlfriend turn, make direct eye contact with me, look at the food in my arms, and look back at the cashier. I guess it's not the SOP or anything to scoot your food forward to make room, but these people had their food in the middle of the belt all spread out, and they lookedright at me, so it got on my nerves a bit.

The cashier rings them up, and the belt opens up, so I move in to put down the load of food that's buckling my knees. I'm thwarted, however, by the WDGF. She was previously leaning onto the counter, and she didn't move, even though their food was bagged and her WDBF was in the process of paying. I stand there for a few seconds, dumbstruck that she won't get her ass out of my way. Eventually I get ticked to the point where I lean over and say "excuse me, could you move up so I can put my stuff down?" She turns, looks me up and down, gives me that kind of "I'm better than you" frown that makes you want to throw a salami at her, and goes back to leaning. The WDBF gives me that "back off" look.

I admittedly wound up holding the line up for a bit when I uttered "You unbelievable bitch" and the WDBF tried to get all up in my face about it (coming hilariously close to knocking the WDGF down), but I didn't mind.

Man, this has been a long post about nothing, hasn't it? I also totally forgot what the "puppy dogs" thing was going to be about. So uh, how about the T-Hilary, huh? She's lashing out trying to attack anything Obama could have potentially messed up a bit on. It's amusing how he's not lashing out at her. He's, you know, confident in himself.

Oh, and Blu-Ray won the format war. Toshiba is officially ending HD-DVD production. Universal and Paramount have announced they're going Blu-Ray. Next up... digital distribution kills Blu-Ray.

1 comment:

Alex said...

God your blog is finding its way to my list of blogs I frequent. Too bad since yours is one of the worst.

Anyways! I've always been bugged by the assholes in the world, but it takes an ever bigger asshole to be an asshole to an asshole. In other words, given two people, one who rudely doesn't move her things, and one who retorts with "you unbelievable bitch" the worse one is pretty clear to me.

Alex out.

Yiff