Two things to note before you read this post: 1). I do not believe in getting help unloading my groceries into the car. 2). I am not a fan of hugging complete strangers. Put both of these things together, and you will understand why I wanted to both die AND put a voodoo curse on the entire staff of my local grocery store this weekend.

So yesterday, I just so happened to pick what can only be described as THE WORST FRICKIN' CHECKOUT LANE ON THE PLANET. I was the unlucky sap who got the bagger who isn't quite playing with a full deck of cards, and therefore, doesn't know jack shit about bag organization. You end up getting triple the amount of bags that you SHOULD get. Not only is this guy like a defective version of the Energizer Bunny, but he also knows how to piss off both my sense of sight AND my sense of smell. Honest to goodness, this poor piece of shit has the worst B.O. known to mankind. He smells like a combination of a dirty locker room and a bag full of mothballs. And as if that isn't bad enough, he also has a mad dandruff situation and a serious case of white crusty crap in the corners of his mouth. Yeah, he's a real looker alright.

So after piling my cart to the flippin' hilt, he and the cashier all but threatened to kill me if I didn't let him help me out to the car. I tried my damnedest to decline their offer, but I seriously feared they'd behead me if I didn't oblige them. Chatty McMatty then proceeded to blab his frickin' mouth off the entire walk from the store to my car. I honestly thought someone had carjacked me, since it took so incredibly long to get to my damn parking space. I'm not gonna lie, I was already starting to squirm. When my 10,000 bags were finally loaded into my car, I offered him a couple of bucks for his trouble, which he quickly declined. He told me that he would be fired if he accepted a tip from a customer. I jokingly said that I thought it was a stupid rule, and that he should be allowed to take my tip (even though this is precisely why I didn't want help in the first freaking place!!!!) Apparently, this got him all frazzled that he had insulted me, and he began apologizing profusely for offending me. I guess he wasn't reading the signs that I wanted nothing more than to just get the hell outta there. And then, everything got a whole lot weirder.

He asked me if instead of money, he could just have a..............wait for it....................HUG.

(I'm pausing here for the EWWWW!!! factor......)

Did I mention how nasty this guy smelled? Do you recall that I have a little issue with hugging complete strangers? Did I tell you how bad this dude was perspiring?

I wanted to vomit right then and there. I had no earthly idea how to respond to such an out-of left-field request. So, naturally, I said, "Uh, ok" without knowing just what to do. (Gimme a break, y'all -- this dude TOTALLY put me on the spot!!!) And while I was going for more of a least-amount of-contact-shoulder-pat type hug, ol' homeboy was going for the gusto with a full-on flippin' bear hug type of hug. I nearly passed out from the overwhelming smell of ass odor he was putting off, not to mention my poor lung that practically collapsed from the massive force of his squeeze. When he FINALLY pulled away, I was never so happy to be breathing clean air again. I also had an overwhelming desire to take a bath in Clorox. I may never go grocery shopping again.

I don't understand why, but these weird things seem to ALWAYS happen to me. I apparently have some sort of a freak magnet buried deep within my bones that I, unfortunately, cannot control. Maybe I need to do that whole circle, circle, dot, dot thing more often cause I need a serious round of cootie shots, especially after being smothered by Creepy McCreep. *shiver*