Creepy Old Men
Went to Wal-Mart today -- and don't get me started on Wal_mart, the only reason I go there is because it's the only place available
-- for the Monster-Child's school shopping. Her school has started requiring uniform T-shirts this year, which if I was still a child I would have hated but as a parent think is the niftiest, seeing as how I don't have to fight with Herself about how her top and pants Do Not Match and No, you are not going to school looking like you dressed in the Salvation Army bin in the dark.
Anyway, because of the uniform shirts, shopping was reasonably painless, and picking out shoes was an eye-opener for me. See, the stuff I wore as a child in the 70's and 80's is now hip again. Bleargh...Herself was hopping up and down wanting a pair of brown and black sneaks that looked for all the world like midget-sized bowling shoes.
We managed to settle on plain white tennies, though, so I won't barf everytime I see her get dressed for school in the morning. I would have pitched a bitch about wearing those black/brown shoes when I was nine, but now they're cool. And I feel so old.
Now, for the creepy old man part, and a bit of background. I was abused as a child, so I have great big ISSUES in shiny bright neon colors about certain stuff, especially being touched without my permission. I also have Grandpa issues, so old men trigger me into panic. Combine no-no touching and old men and you have a sure-fire recipe for a full-on freakout.
SOOOOO...I'm in line to buy a carton cigarettes while hubby and Herself are in line to buy her school clothes in another aisle. The guy in line ahead of me is currently inside the little tobacco products enclosure with the clerk, because he apparently couldn't make her understand that he wanted the Wino Special: a drum of Bugle and two books of Zigzags. Wheee.
I wait, they come out, and Creepy Old Guy comes over to stand waytooclose to me, and then he tries to grab my money out of my hand where it's resting against the side of the counter. I flinched away and jumped back, and he smiled cheesily at me, saying he was just joking -- and then the creepy old fuck puts his scaly, hot, nasty hand on my shoulder (bare, because I'm in a tank top) to give me a pat, and then clamps down and sort of shakes me around.
That, my friends n' neighbors, was It. I lost it and reeled around, practically running to get away from this guy. If there'd been a wall in my way, I would've busted right through it like a cartoon character, leaving a Liz-shaped hole behind. I ran to hubby and cowered nex to his comforting "don't fuck with me" 6'5" self, and just sort of shook like a wet dog until we got out of the store.
Now that I'm home, I'm going to let my xanax kick in, take a shower to wash off the Creepy Old Dude cooties, and try to calm the fuck down. I hate this.
Went to Wal-Mart today -- and don't get me started on Wal_mart, the only reason I go there is because it's the only place available
-- for the Monster-Child's school shopping. Her school has started requiring uniform T-shirts this year, which if I was still a child I would have hated but as a parent think is the niftiest, seeing as how I don't have to fight with Herself about how her top and pants Do Not Match and No, you are not going to school looking like you dressed in the Salvation Army bin in the dark.
Anyway, because of the uniform shirts, shopping was reasonably painless, and picking out shoes was an eye-opener for me. See, the stuff I wore as a child in the 70's and 80's is now hip again. Bleargh...Herself was hopping up and down wanting a pair of brown and black sneaks that looked for all the world like midget-sized bowling shoes.
We managed to settle on plain white tennies, though, so I won't barf everytime I see her get dressed for school in the morning. I would have pitched a bitch about wearing those black/brown shoes when I was nine, but now they're cool. And I feel so old.
Now, for the creepy old man part, and a bit of background. I was abused as a child, so I have great big ISSUES in shiny bright neon colors about certain stuff, especially being touched without my permission. I also have Grandpa issues, so old men trigger me into panic. Combine no-no touching and old men and you have a sure-fire recipe for a full-on freakout.
SOOOOO...I'm in line to buy a carton cigarettes while hubby and Herself are in line to buy her school clothes in another aisle. The guy in line ahead of me is currently inside the little tobacco products enclosure with the clerk, because he apparently couldn't make her understand that he wanted the Wino Special: a drum of Bugle and two books of Zigzags. Wheee.
I wait, they come out, and Creepy Old Guy comes over to stand waytooclose to me, and then he tries to grab my money out of my hand where it's resting against the side of the counter. I flinched away and jumped back, and he smiled cheesily at me, saying he was just joking -- and then the creepy old fuck puts his scaly, hot, nasty hand on my shoulder (bare, because I'm in a tank top) to give me a pat, and then clamps down and sort of shakes me around.
That, my friends n' neighbors, was It. I lost it and reeled around, practically running to get away from this guy. If there'd been a wall in my way, I would've busted right through it like a cartoon character, leaving a Liz-shaped hole behind. I ran to hubby and cowered nex to his comforting "don't fuck with me" 6'5" self, and just sort of shook like a wet dog until we got out of the store.
Now that I'm home, I'm going to let my xanax kick in, take a shower to wash off the Creepy Old Dude cooties, and try to calm the fuck down. I hate this.
i hate creepy people. i once had a guy lean in close to me as he walked past and go "uuhhhh" to me. *shudders* very creepy. sorry that creepy old guy bothered you.