So I'm at the supermarket the other day and...what?

Yes I'm a petroleum-based inanimate minor diety but I do my own damn shopping! Who else can I depend on to get the right flavor of bone-shaped snacks? Panzo?!

Anyway, I decide to use the Chek-Ur-Own-Ass-Out machines even though they rub my principles the wrong way.

See, I look at the four-station setup and see at least three high school chicks forced to work at the god damned Hollister shop at the mall. Shit! I hate that Hollister and Amoebacrombie & Stitch bullshit! Dudes and Bettys? You gotta be a special brand of trend whore to willingly be categorized by some kitschy 1960's surf lingo and wear that sweat shop stitchery. I swear, anyone who wears their style as pre-fabbed by some accountant with a roomful of sewing machines operated by 7-year olds takes it up the butt. Seriously.

But I'm using the Chek-Out-Ur-Moms station to buy a box of snacks and this month's issue of DogTime (comes out every seven weeks - get it?) and this woman beside me starts crowding up on my shoulder like her ass is working a buttonhole stitch.

Now, I'm a decent minor deity. I don't want to turn her into a pillar of salt or make worm-infested fungus explode from her mouth but on the other hand, stay the fuck off my grill too, you know?

So while the Chek-Out-Ur-Six is whirring away, collecting the payment information from my Deity's Club card and purring at me in that vapid Laura Bush voice, I'm just tapping my paw and running a tongue dripping with saliva over my teeth.

Do you think Buttonhole Babe got the message? Fuck no! She keeps sidling up like her ice cream is going to melt before the can crumble her sugar wafers into it and curl up with The National Exploiter and a cupful of Guatemalan Turmoil from Starbucks.

I tried to box her out by turning my glorious body square to her, still hoping I could convince her to step back by using my body telepathy but like an NBA forward, she tried the feint-left-go-right thing.

So I elbowed the bitch in the throat.

But what is up with this shit these days?