|Don't Fight Her Over the Mayo|
Today I am going to slam, in a gentlemanly manner, perhaps the most important segment of American society. Today I am going to bash, again in a gentlemanly way, Little Old Ladies! Yes, those silver haired grandmas that bake you pies, cookies and cakes. Those angels of mercy and comfort that are there for you when no one else seems to care. However, you take these same little old ladies and put them in a shopping environment and every damn one of them turn into demons from the Dark Side! I ain't kiddin'. I have seen this mutation with my own two eyes.
I do or help do the shopping for my family 99% of the time. When I say shopping, I mean shopping for groceries, birthdays, Easter, Christmas and any other occasion you can think of. Therefore, I know of what I speak. Case in point. We were at Wal Mart the other day along with every gray haired lady in Kennebec County. I could smell the danger the moment we entered the store. You know the smell. Eau de EL Cheapo by Avon. That suffocating smell that lingers in the air like napalm, robbing you of your breath and makes your eyes water like you just did an eye wash with sulfuric acid. At this point, I knew what we were in for, so I made sure my pepper spray was handy as we headed to the Food Department. As we approached the canned goods aisle, the fog of Eau de El Cheapo engulfed us. I instinctively went into War Mode. This was not going to be an easy mission, made even more perilous by the fact that Miracle Whip was going 2 for 1. As my family and I observed from our position on the perimeter of the Food Department. Doing some recon for our eventual foray into the wilds of the condiment aisle, I saw things that I'd never seen before or since. Little Old Ladies, who just a few minutes ago were zipping through Wal Mart on Hover Rounds were now engaged in hand to mayonaise combat! One Little Old Lady was on the top shelf of the display opposite the Miracle Whip launched herself off the shelf towards the melee and SMACK! A brain buster to a Little Old Lady wearing a sweat shirt that said "Hulk Hogan Is a Fink". Trying to make sense of this senseless Little Old Lady Brawl, I trained my eyes on an LOL (Little Old Lady) who had another LOL in a headlock screaming, "Bitch, that's my fucking mayo!", while delivering a flurry of upper cuts to her victim. Just then a rumble that sounded like stampeding buffalo was getting closer and closer, louder and louder! Holy shit! A group of LOL's racing toward the French Bread which was just announced as a Manager's Special at two loaves for $2.59. There was crashing and clanging as shopping carts were plowing into each other like Turn 4 on the last lap at Daytona. Oh, the humanity! Then, like Moses parting the Red Sea, the brawling Little Old Ladies on the condiment aisle suddenly stopped pounding the hell out of each other and raced towards the French Bread. These women are vicious, nothing like the group of Grannies of a few minutes ago. I think I'd rather fight a Grizzly bear with a switch than to face these seasoned citizen chaos causers again.
Then, it hit me. Like a ton of bricks. We don't even like Miracle Whip!! About that time, my wife said to me, "Honey, there's a special on Eau de El Cheapo in cosmetics". Our divorce is final in a few weeks.