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Supermarket Interrogation
Written on 2001-11-27, at 6:28 a.m.
dizboy's disturbing daily diet...

1 Bag of Popcorn

2 Bowls of Honey Comb

2 Large Sweet Teas

1 12-Piece Chicken Nuggets

1 Large Fries

1 Bag Pepperidge Farm Gingerbread Men

1 Bacon Double Cheeseburger

1 Bowl Baked Beans

1 Vanilla Malted

2 Godiva Truffles

3 Cigarettes (DAMN IT)


John Live*

Yes Chococat, yes it is.

*Not at all live


The sun is beginning to rise behind me, and a new day is dawning over the bustling metropolis of Orlando, FL.

And I have just returned from work.

After working 12 straight (or gay, whatever) hours, I am once again home.

I now sit here in front of the computer, in a vain attempt to fool myself into actually believing that I'm going to do things to occupy my time until I depart for my 8:30 class.

When, in all actuality, I will type this, attempt to take a short nap, and end up horribly disfiguring the alarm clock when it proceeds in its futile task of rousing me from my Gap induced coma.

I'm a good 6 hours over my weekly limit this week at work. This means I simply have to cut those hours from the abundance of free time I have at the store. (Note to reader: Please re-read previous sentence, using sarcastic David Spade voice.)


While in the supermarket the other day, I was purchasing nail polish remover, Drain-O (Long time readers must notice I use a lot of Drain-O...It's nothing freaky, I just have crap plumbing.) Ha ha..."crap plumbing"...Oops, I already closed the parentheses, stop thinking out loud...You have to double close them now.)), and a can of whipped cream. The woman, whom I can only describe as horrid, looks at me, and says:

"What's all this for?"

What?

What an asinine question.

Well you see, I wandered into this building, and, well geez, there's lots of stuff in here, and these are some of the more interesting things I found, so I wanted to share them with you, my new friend.

"It's for my pumpkin pie." I replied, leaving the crypic question of exactly which item I would use on my pumpkin pie hanging in the tense air of the checkout counter.

Why the hell are people always questioning my purchases? Is it because I buy odd combinations of things? Next time I go to a store, I'm going to buy tampons, Q-tips, an enema, a toothbrush, and nasal spray.

I will go to the exact same woman, and when she asks,

"What's all this for?"

I'll say,

"I have a nun tied up in my basement, and I have a bet going with my pet cauliflower that I can get something into every one of her orafices."

Smile. Pay. And leave.


By the way, I want to say thanks to everyone who reads this drivel...it's really cool to know that people actually enjoy what comes flying out of my head. It's also really cool that I still use the phrase "really cool" at age twenty-three. There are now over 50 people who've listed me as a favorite...that's so scary. And don't be shy about saying "Hi" to me online, my screename is TresFabuleux. We should all have a big, um, party...sometime...yeah, a big party.

That said, I think I might start an "Orlando" diaryring.

Yes...yes, I think I will...

Oh, "aniece" (I don't know your name!)...Come say hi to me at work anytime, you wouldn't be the first random person to say "Um, are you dizboy from Diaryland?"...But, chew some gum if it's right after Fazoli's...that stuff's hell on the breath!

Be well...

-JOHN-


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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