If you’re standing next to me at the grocery checkout line I’m judging you based on what you’re buying. No exceptions. Doesn’t matter what I’m buying. Whatever you’re buying always somehow makes you inferior to me. If it’s a self-check-out line, I’m also judging your intelligence based on how long it takes you to figure out how to find the produce code for the cucumber you are no doubt going to be shoving in your ass later.
Costco is an especially good place for this because shit purchases are one thing, but shit purchases in bulk make for some majorly awesome judgy-ness . The shit people buy at Costco is fucking horrifying. Eight quadruple packs of Wonder bread and a gallon jug of mayonnaise? Why not just pour sugar and lard down your gullet instead?
Regardless, I was at SuuuuuuperTarget yesterday picking up a few items (tomatoes, an avocado, some Amy’s frozen things and tampons if you’re curious and want to judge) and so I’m standing there minding my own business quietly judging the guy in front of me who apparently had a checkout belt phobia because he was cradling all his shit (vitamin C drops, a fancy pink mother’s day card, and Fiber Choice pills) like it was a fragile infant and passing each item to the cashier one-by-one so it wouldn’t touch the tainted belt. And as I’m sizing the guy up (35ish year old, uptight constipated germaphobe who probably lives in his mom's basement), bam! a “family sized” bag of Fritos gets tossed onto the belt (like literally heaved) behind my (far superior) purchases, followed by bam! bam! bam! bam! bam! bam! bam! bam! bam! - 9 more bags. Fucking ten giant bags of Fritos! TEN! Now let me stop right here and say I love me some Fritos. Love. Them. Those BBQ Frito twists are like motherfucking crack. I could eat Fritos all day every day but I don’t for (what should be) obvious reasons….
So naturally I then turn to look at the person who is clearly living my dream to find a whole lotta
woman wearing a whole lotta animal print with what I call a Lego hair
– you know, hair that looks it was snapped on like a helmet via a round
connector at the top of your head - a "hair helmet" if you will...
After the Fritos came industrial-sized cans of refried beans (a size that I didn’t know existed, especially at Target, though I guess I don’t peruse the refried bean section that often), paper plates, and plastic spoons.
Well at this point the rusty gears in my head are turning.
Is she making a shitload of some sort of Frito/refried bean casserole? The Frito-to-bean
ratio seemed off to me. Was she planning
a party to serve this casserole? Or was she just too lazy to do dishes? How efficient is it to eat Fritos with a
plastic spoon? Or maybe the spoons were to eat the beans out of the cans, but
then what were the plates for? My curiosity was so piqued at this point that
the words, “What the hell are you gonna do with all those fucking Fritos???” started forming in my head until my hatred for
people and conversations with strangers kicked into gear.
Now I realize that she probably had other stuff at home to compliment her purchases… and who doesn’t have a bunch of things already on hand that could go with vats of Fritos and refried beans, right? But then my mind takes a horrific turn and goes to this: Frito bath.
GodDAMMIT! Why did my mind have to go there??? Now I have
this picture in my head of this woman crawling into a bathtub full of Fritos
and the spooning refried beans from the can into her cakehole (still no idea
about the plates, though….).Awesome. Now I'm going to have nightmares... and perhaps now you will too!
Anyway, the point of all this is that I’m judging you, whoever you are, at the grocery store.
Case of bottled water? Environment hater.
Lots of frozen dinners? Lonely loser.
Case of Ramen Noodles? Poor lonely loser.
Sugared cereals? Horrible parent.
Lots of Greek yogurt? Douchebag.
Tofu and Asian pears? Huge douchebag
And the list goes on… and then when I’m done judging you for what you’re buying I’m judging you for how you look.
I guess the moral of this story is to do all your shopping online…. Though I guess the order fulfiller will also be judging you.
So I guess the moral of this story is that I’m a horribly judgmental person… but really. Admit it. You are too, aren’t you?
I knew it!
Fucking judgy mcjudgerton asshole….
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