Ah, it was an interesting day. I went grocery shopping. That's always an interesting experience. I like going to the grocery store. Seeing all those people, all intent on their purchases, rolling their little shopping carts around the store, picking and choosing, looking and comparing. Then I passed the canteloupe. That's when the trouble started.
I have never really liked canteloupe. And they know that. Well, I was rolling my cart along the fruits and vegetables section, minding my own business, heck, I wasn't even NEAR the canteloupe. And I heard one of them, one of those little smug round fruits--it yelled out a profanity at me. I won't say it here, but it was foul. Just like a cantelope to hit you where you live.
Well blogosphere, you would have been proud of me. I was going to keep walking, just ignore it and keep going, be more of a man than it. But they wouldn't let me. Ooooh no. Another canteloupe, a bigger one, started yelling. And then another. Then they were ALL yelling at me--curses, profanity, I swear, I don't know HOW the Produce Manager didn't hear all the noise.
Well, I couldn't just STAND there and listen to it all. I had to do something. So, I ran over to the appliance aisle, grabbed me some of those big kitchen knives and layed into their little smirking dimple-covered bodies. Stabbing left and right, all through the bin, tossing them over my shoulder, there was sticky pinkish-orange juice and seeds everywhere. I think I got through most of the bin before they restrained me. It only took four big stockmen and a guy with a pallet jack.
The good news? They're letting me keep my Ipaq here in the holding cell so I can keep posting. And my cell-mate, Bubba, wants to be friends. I'll write more later.
Oh--before I forget--Happy National Play-Doh day. Unfortunately the Rec Room here doesn't offer Play-Doh. Their idea of recreation runs more toward heavy steel things with blunt edges.
Today's colour: grey, lots of grey
Today's scent: Ew. The jail's laundry seems not to be working
Today's word: "screw." That's what they call the guards, I'm told
Today's music: The guards are listening to Christine Aguelara. Isn't that considered torture?
Today's tele: Court TV