So, I’m in line at the bank yesterday. Peter McNeeley is in front of me and a weathered blonde with three kids in tow is behind me. Pete’s an all right guy and all, but Tyson ended all brain activity in the poor man. The blonde behind me insists on standing within one freakin inch of me. I don’t know how everyone else feels about having your personal space violated, but it annoys me a great deal. On top of this, she’s talking… wait, scratch that… screaming on her cell phone at what can only be her 4’th child. This made me uncomfortable because of her proximity to me… It looked like I was the proud daddy.
At this point, I came to the realization that I was the meat in a stupid sandwich. I swear that I could feel a few brain cells trying to escape out of my ears. The jumpers got off easy…
Ever have one of those days when you swear that the second hand on the clock was ticking backwards?
This was one of those days… Naturally, the tellers computers go down… oh joy. More jumpers… The decibel level of the blonde has peaked. The child on the cell phone is named Lexus. (I’m sure she’ll have a nice career as a stripper someday…) I’m looking for an escape route now. I think I just heard Bubba say , “Run Forrest…, run…”
Computers are back up… thank you, thank you, thank you.. Jesus, Buddah, Allah, Zeus, Thor.
The line moved slower than a snail in a glue factory, but it moved. I think a few brain cells survived the ordeal. I’ll take them out for a test drive later.
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