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My gal clips coupons, which is another way to say she has found a foolproof way of instigating a no-win argument.
We do this once a week: she wakes up around noon Sunday and demands I find a sunday paper for the coupons. Which nobody has anymore, because the coin racks now receive like 3 issues each because the LATimes is going bankrupt, and the distributor for the 7-11 is the same one delivering to the Ralphs over here near Malibu and he gives neither one barely a dozen.
So they're ALL gone by prolly 10am. Cuz there just ain't enough to go around.
I'm used to this routine by now, it's nothing new so I wake her up to ask if she needs the paper so I don't get FUCKED into coming back empty handed after driving into town.
Anyways she'll sit there and scan and clip, and divine the entire publication for anything clippable before heading out the door guilting me to come along, and boy do I hate this. I hate this worse than Mel Gibson's fucking retarded shepard barking his head off all week when he's gone.. asshole. The dog I mean, Mel's okay I just hate the dog and wish to kick its ribs in for waking me up in the morning barking at the pelicans.
So I drive her in and got guilted into actually going into the store tonite.. the last few times I was able to just sit in the car and listen to the radio, and before that my behaviour was so intentionally imbecillical I thought I earned my You'll Never Shop With Me Again laurels but I guess she's forgotten.
So alongside the cart and the sashaying skirt trot I, Keeper of the Coupons. My teeth ache in my head as I grimace and grit them together, peppered with questions like "if I buy Jello Parfait cups and pack a lunch will you eat them" (NO that shit looks like pidgeon-shit sandwich spread over an enema) - or - "JIF peanut butter is out of the creamy, guess we'll have to get Crunchy.. but oh I don't like that.. (it says here '19.6 cents an ounce in the 2 quart size and 20 cents an ounce if you get the little 24 ounce, dummy, you're only saving .4 cents use your brain) "oh we need bananas, but they're all green today (they're always fucking green, like my COCK which you never put in your mouth)
I can't help it. I am an admitted asshole, I realized long ago I am different and have worked real hard to find a moderation in my disgust for civilization, so this is about the best I am going to get without further psychiatric analysis or what have you.. but I don't think anyone deserves this type of abuse: "you like the Jewish Rye bread, but do we have any left?" (oh you mean the loaf I bought Tuesday we just opened this morming? are you stuppid?)
Really, I am doing the best I can. I am smiling. I am grinning, supressing as much of my torpid tongue as possible but she just keeps drilling my ass for perfectly good comebacks, and I don't know how much longer I can resist the urge to punish her for it.
Slowly, we waddle to the cashier, and I have not dropped any F-bombs in the market yet.. and she blindsides me with a good one in true Lefty fashion "oh honey I left my keyring back at the place, now we won't get the discount as a member DARN I knew I was forgetting something.." (eyes bulging from the stress, I am feeling primed and ready to pluck her head from her body, yet there are too many potential witnesses in there)
"keypad in your phone number for the discount" I offer.
"I don't remember which number I used."
The pain is settling in right about Third Eye Level, you know, right where the Dothead Hindus ink the red dot between the eyes.. so I am jabbing with both thumbs above the bridge of my nose, I am squinting at her, I am shooting atomic daggers of the supreme death at her visually so she can see how I am struggling both in ways not to respond poorly to her idiocy, and also not to kill her in front of the cashier.
So I go "please. key in. MY number. please."
Defused, but not dissuaded, Lefty then turns her intimidations on the checker: "did the keypad take it? how much of a discount did it take off (four dollars, ma'am..) oh is that all $4 dollars?"
So I get the "look" from the checker like, This is the Daughter of Divine Destruction, this one is. I roll my eyes at him in fond agreement of this mute assessment, nodding.
"I shall kill her before dawn at first snore" I feigned back.
This is what drives men to alcoholism, I know. Whaat I dont' know is what initiates this, is it builtup resentment accrued like interest during the week or just mental illness that makes women do this?
I just don't see that the savings are that great: four bucks, figure the half hour it takes me to find a paper neither one of us really reads, the 3 hours she spent clipping and the hour it took her to search the entire store for the exact inventory she required to match up the coupons she cut up..
I just grab what I eat, and go. I don't see the savings in clipping coupons.
SO does your galpal clip coupons, and isn't it like pulling teeth going with her neurotic ass to pile the cart half with bullshit you know you won't eat till the cupboard stock goes significantly down? I want experiences here - I want answers Gentlemen!
I cannot be the only one abused in this manner..
We do this once a week: she wakes up around noon Sunday and demands I find a sunday paper for the coupons. Which nobody has anymore, because the coin racks now receive like 3 issues each because the LATimes is going bankrupt, and the distributor for the 7-11 is the same one delivering to the Ralphs over here near Malibu and he gives neither one barely a dozen.
So they're ALL gone by prolly 10am. Cuz there just ain't enough to go around.
I'm used to this routine by now, it's nothing new so I wake her up to ask if she needs the paper so I don't get FUCKED into coming back empty handed after driving into town.
Anyways she'll sit there and scan and clip, and divine the entire publication for anything clippable before heading out the door guilting me to come along, and boy do I hate this. I hate this worse than Mel Gibson's fucking retarded shepard barking his head off all week when he's gone.. asshole. The dog I mean, Mel's okay I just hate the dog and wish to kick its ribs in for waking me up in the morning barking at the pelicans.
So I drive her in and got guilted into actually going into the store tonite.. the last few times I was able to just sit in the car and listen to the radio, and before that my behaviour was so intentionally imbecillical I thought I earned my You'll Never Shop With Me Again laurels but I guess she's forgotten.
So alongside the cart and the sashaying skirt trot I, Keeper of the Coupons. My teeth ache in my head as I grimace and grit them together, peppered with questions like "if I buy Jello Parfait cups and pack a lunch will you eat them" (NO that shit looks like pidgeon-shit sandwich spread over an enema) - or - "JIF peanut butter is out of the creamy, guess we'll have to get Crunchy.. but oh I don't like that.. (it says here '19.6 cents an ounce in the 2 quart size and 20 cents an ounce if you get the little 24 ounce, dummy, you're only saving .4 cents use your brain) "oh we need bananas, but they're all green today (they're always fucking green, like my COCK which you never put in your mouth)
I can't help it. I am an admitted asshole, I realized long ago I am different and have worked real hard to find a moderation in my disgust for civilization, so this is about the best I am going to get without further psychiatric analysis or what have you.. but I don't think anyone deserves this type of abuse: "you like the Jewish Rye bread, but do we have any left?" (oh you mean the loaf I bought Tuesday we just opened this morming? are you stuppid?)
Really, I am doing the best I can. I am smiling. I am grinning, supressing as much of my torpid tongue as possible but she just keeps drilling my ass for perfectly good comebacks, and I don't know how much longer I can resist the urge to punish her for it.
Slowly, we waddle to the cashier, and I have not dropped any F-bombs in the market yet.. and she blindsides me with a good one in true Lefty fashion "oh honey I left my keyring back at the place, now we won't get the discount as a member DARN I knew I was forgetting something.." (eyes bulging from the stress, I am feeling primed and ready to pluck her head from her body, yet there are too many potential witnesses in there)
"keypad in your phone number for the discount" I offer.
"I don't remember which number I used."
The pain is settling in right about Third Eye Level, you know, right where the Dothead Hindus ink the red dot between the eyes.. so I am jabbing with both thumbs above the bridge of my nose, I am squinting at her, I am shooting atomic daggers of the supreme death at her visually so she can see how I am struggling both in ways not to respond poorly to her idiocy, and also not to kill her in front of the cashier.
So I go "please. key in. MY number. please."
Defused, but not dissuaded, Lefty then turns her intimidations on the checker: "did the keypad take it? how much of a discount did it take off (four dollars, ma'am..) oh is that all $4 dollars?"
So I get the "look" from the checker like, This is the Daughter of Divine Destruction, this one is. I roll my eyes at him in fond agreement of this mute assessment, nodding.
"I shall kill her before dawn at first snore" I feigned back.
This is what drives men to alcoholism, I know. Whaat I dont' know is what initiates this, is it builtup resentment accrued like interest during the week or just mental illness that makes women do this?
I just don't see that the savings are that great: four bucks, figure the half hour it takes me to find a paper neither one of us really reads, the 3 hours she spent clipping and the hour it took her to search the entire store for the exact inventory she required to match up the coupons she cut up..
I just grab what I eat, and go. I don't see the savings in clipping coupons.
SO does your galpal clip coupons, and isn't it like pulling teeth going with her neurotic ass to pile the cart half with bullshit you know you won't eat till the cupboard stock goes significantly down? I want experiences here - I want answers Gentlemen!
I cannot be the only one abused in this manner..
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