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11:41 a.m. - 2010-02-09
All wrong for Shoprite

Gads, it's gotten so I dread going into the Italian deli, Mario's bullshit is too much to deal with. He's crossed waaaaay over the line from charming showboat and into bullying git. His effusive 'hospitality' is relentless. I do NOT want any more cheese or supersot or capicola shoved down my throat. (*Note: capicola is pronounced: 'gabba-goal' around here. Why? Who knows?) It's my misfortune that I must make a deli run today while I do the weekly marketing. Mick's Valentine's Day gift from me is my cooking up the dinner of his choice. I know V-Day isn't until Sunday, but supposedly there's huge snow coming and I'd feel better knowing I have everything on hand. The requested menu is an Italian feast including antipasto (anna-PAH-sst) and that means going to the %$#& deli.

I am determined not to be hassled today. When Mario starts in shoving samples over the counter at me despite my saying I don't want them I am keeping my hands behind my back and will ask him very loudly, "Mario! What part of NO don't you understand? Just give me my order and cut the crap." If he continues anyhow I will march through the connecting door into the pizzeria, find Mario's son-in-law Angelo (the owner of both stores) and make enough of a stink that the perpetually overworked Angelo will finally do something about his obnoxious FIL. I kind of feel bad for Angelo, I have a sneaky he opened the deli just to get his git of a FIL out of the pizzeria. But you know, if I'm laying out big money for cold cuts and cheese I don't think I should have to put up with any nonsense from that aggressive jerk of a salami slicer. Nor should I have to drive all the way over to the far side of Malltown to go to another deli just to be able to buy my stuff in peace.

And what's with my Irishman asking for Italian food anyhow? I offered him his choice of anything, including my world famous pot roast, and he chooses all this greasy garlic-laden Mama Leoni stuff? Garlic on Valentine's Day? Yeah, that's romantic. Of course I'm not going to renege, but jeeze.

Lisa the physician's assistant would kick my ass if she knew I went to the gym yesterday with bronchitis. Hey, I was good. Didn't use the treadmill and brought the albuterol inhaler with me in case my breathing seized up. Taking the inhaler to the gym tickled me. It's like those people who drive around and around the gym's parking lot waiting for a good space to open up. Uh, hello? Burn half a tank of gas so you can get a space by the door? You're at the gym. Oy, the irony.

Machine hogging reached a new high (or low) yesterday when some putz refused to get off the machine he knew I was waiting for while he played with his iPhone. I swear! He'd diddle with the touch screen for 10 minutes, then do 3 reps, pull his phone back out and diddle with it some more, do a couple more reps, more phone stroking, etc, etc. Every once in a while he'd cut his eyes at me and smirk. I worked around him doing other machines, but made it clear I was waiting for him to get his butt off that machine already. He 'won' in that I finally gave up and left the area, but I had to wonder what kind of dickless jerk he had to be that 'winning' an ab machine showdown was so very important to him. A young guy too. Not a self-important old dude, like Mr Manicure. Going to complain at the desk wouldn't help, if he saw me coming back with a manager he'd just stash his penis, um, phone and start working out and act like he hadn't a clue what my problem was.

Breathe, LA, breathe.

Anyhow, MIL and I got into a nice chat with another guy who went far in redeeming his gender. We'd all gotten to a machine at the same time and he gallantly offered MIL first turn. Ended up we rotated turns and discussed technique and results in a very friendly and positive way while alternating between that machine and the nearby tricep machine. But what does it say that I was actually surprised to run across a guy who wasn't a selfish boor?

Wow, I'm in some pisser of a mood, eh? I don't know. Wrong side of the bed maybe. Time to strap it up and get to the stores. You know it's bad with me if I'm not looking forward to shopping. Feh.

In any case I am not about to take any baloney from Mario the deli guy. ('Baloney at the deli', get it?) ~LA

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