and in this heatwave

and it is a heatwave-- i thought it was much closer to 50, but it's only 41-- i decided to walk home from the asylum today. it was a lovely walk, reminiscent of the transit strike o' 2005 which gave me fuel to tell my kids, 'when i was your age, i walked uphill both ways to and from work, in eighteen inches of snow, without shoes, during the great transit strike of 2005 that lasted months and months.'

got to gristede's on the way home and picked up some needed things i forgot yesterday. (i bought swiss? i thought i bought muenster. i HATE swiss.) and as i'm picking out my muenster, which is pre-wrapped and priced by the pound, as i'm foraging though the muenster department of the cheese island looking for the largest pre-wrapped muenster log, with kylie minogue (another aussie, pj...) singing away, i hear some guy mumble something about excuse me, so i moved in, let him pass, he said it again, and i moved over, finally a third time, this time after he actually stepped aside, he excuses himself again, i look over, and boyfriend, who is about 215 pounds and wearing all brand names, tells me, 'he's really hungry, and needs to eat' and could i give him a dollar. NO. i work too god damned hard for my republican dollars to give them away to a teenager with a bigger set of balls than brains. felt like saying, 'dear, you hardly look emaciated. and you are wearing brand name everything and i am not... get back home before i have to call your mother.'

instead i threw him a, 'you have GOT to be kidding me' look, put 'your disco needs you' back on full blast (GREAT running song, by the way) and went to get canned ravioli (yum). he didn't like this and stared me down mumbling something or other, bla bla bla. a few short minutes later, he and his partner-in-crime left as i'm in the express line, leaving me to ponder the following: let's say his little antic, err, THEIR little antics, worked. and let's say they got a buck or two out of the deal, why wouldn't they buy food? and since they clearly didn't buy food, and assuming someone gave them money, how do you suppose the duped person felt watching them leave? and do you think they thought of this? and wouldn't it be easier and less involved to just steal the food than ask people for it? and of all places to hit people up, gristede's?

ok, perhaps, PERHAPS, i'm over thinking this, but i just had to share. and while gristede's is good for only so many things, mouthwash and spray starch for tomorrow's iron, not so much :-( off to duane reade i go... i can only imagine what little tales i'll have to tell after that one, dears...