Thursday, July 14, 2005

Karma, it seems, is a bigger bitch than I am.

Once again, the FoodWhore doesn't disappoint.

My goal was to get in, get out, and get home as quickly as possible. My last trip there I ran into Jabby Janelle and wound up having to put my ice cream back because it started to melt before I could even check out of the store. And I was just in no mood for meat counter chats or baking aisle gossip. So I made my way to each item I needed but then my back started to itch. And it was that kind of itch in the very geographical middle of my back that I could not reach no matter what I did. And I tried. But I'm just not that advanced in my yoga skills yet and it was the kind of itch that needed straight on contact with something sharp.


So there was this hanging display thingy over by the olive oil. It was one of those things they attach to the regular display shelves and it had those nice plastic covered bar sticky-outy things. Perfect for getting that spot on my back.

I looked around to make sure no one was watching and I put my back on that thing like a bear on a tree. I thought just a quick rub would take care of that pesky itch and I could be on my way. Only, I pressed too hard and the shelf kind of came off it's clips and shifted enough to knock free all the packets of dry Italian dressing it contained, and then it knocked a bottle of olive oil to the floor.

And, yeah. It broke.

I am pretty sure this is the Universe's way of keeping my ego in check. For every bitchy thing I do I get my feet knocked out from under me.

Karma, it seems, is a bigger bitch than I am.

Toasting TFW! Pass the martini.

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