I am currently a carryout at the local grocery store. Go ahead, laugh it up. Here I sit, degree in hand, bagging groceries at a store in the town where I grew up. But I do have a greater purpose in life...in 4 months time, while you're still sitting here at your computer reading the inane thoughts of someone you don't know I'll be in a tropical paradise, offering to create a better life for the people of a small nation. The grocery gig is just something to help pass the time and put a little bling in a brother's pocket. So screw you.
Anyway, the reason I mentioned it is that because I had a bit of an embarrassing situation today. I'm a friendly person, and I like to talk to people who come through the store as I bag their groceries or run their purchases over the scanner. I noticed that the two middle aged women whose groceries I was currently bagging were buying a lot of juice, cookies, styrofoam plates and the such. First thought that comes to my mind? They're having a party.
I ask in a loud, attention attracting, annoyingly chipper voice "So, having a party?". My stupid grin splits my stupid face ear to ear at my own perceived powers of deduction.
The first women looks at me, somberly, and responds "No, funeral."
"Oh," is my genius reply. Not "I'm sorry" or "I'm a jackass" or "Clean up in Aisle Two". I search for something in the near vicinity to relieve my tongue of the taste of shoe leather. It is a decidedly bitter taste.