Reason Number 492 Why I shouldn't Own A Gun

I woke up this morning fully intending to go for a ride on my horse. I had my coffee, got dressed and screwed around on my computer and then I realized I had promised my mother that I would pick up her television from Best Buy today. I really wanted to ride my horse. I need to ride my horse, but although my mother is now 75 years old, I still fear all five feet three inches of her. I know there is no way I could ever take her and she can get down-right biblical on your ass if you cross her.

So, reluctantly I went to Best Buy.

I bought some DVD’s for my husband while I was there and crap for my camera and then I was instructed to wait in the Geek Squad Line. This is a very long line with various people who are bringing in defective products they too had been sold.

I stand there in line for quite awhile, my back starts aching and I try to patiently await my turn. I really do. Some yahoo turns around to inform a lady with a vacuum that this is the Geek Squad line and is for computers only. I try to burn a hole though his head because by now I have been subjected to blaring televisions and some asshole who doesn’t know how to work a surround sound systems and his choice of music has placed me near the edge of homicidal maniac. I can overhear the employees at the customer service counter chat about tonight’s party, whine about their schedules, while they are servicing NO ONE. This is bullshit! I walk over to some peon in customer service and make his life miserable for a few moments. I rant about how things should be done. There should be two lines one for dropping off and one for picking up and why do I have to stand in the Geek Squad line to pick up a television set? I’m wearing my Born Again Pagan t-shirt and he keeps looking at it and then back at me again like I’m going to make him levitate or something.

I go back to the line and strike up a conversation with the lady with the vacuum. She informs me she had to hire some one to watch her kids as she had heard from so and so about the length of time you are made to wait. I decide not to give up. We decide to keep an eye on the guy in the camouflage gear that is so NOT in the military. To create a distraction, I look through the plate glass windows out into the parking lot where I spot my pick-up truck and am reminded that my vicadin isn’t in my purse, but is nestled amongst other crap in my glove box. Now I’m cranky again.

This is bullshit. I had to stand in line when I brought the television in and now I have to stand in line again. Why? Because they don’t give a fuck.

I then fantasized about crashing my truck through the front doors, glass shattering everywhere, taking out the fucker that insisted he had to look in my bag at the shit he saw me purchase, taking a gun to the head of the asshole in customer service that wouldn’t help me and politely ask “will you help me now MOTHER FUCKER?”

And then someone says, “Next?” and I am startled back into reality, but I’m still pissed.

The lady with the vacuum cleaner is next and she is pleading my case about how I am there just to pick something up and can’t someone help me?

This touches me and when it is my turn I am actually downright civilized.