THe FReCKLeD FINGeR

Not much out of me tonight, I'm pretty busy but I just bought an audio book and 4 x 5HR Energy drinks... so I should be dead by sun up.

As a fat person, I found myself yet again at the grocery store.  These empoyees know me by name.  Of course, none of which speak English, so I'm not sure what name they know me by, but they say it every time I walk in.

"THE FAT RED MAN!"

Anyway, I was loading up on some energy drinks, but for some reason, this store manager or stockboy decided that they still live in Africa with 7ft tall lion hunting Massai men.  How the hell am I supposed to reach this shit?  I look goddamn ridiculous standing on my tippy toes, sweating and grunting like a fuckin' elk.  I can barely touch the bottle with the very tip of my middle finger and have to do that gentle fingering motion to slightly move it closer to the edge inch by inch.  What kind of place is this?  I am the epitome of America:  short and fat and Latin tempered, goddamnit!  Meet our needs for Christ's sake.

I feel like those miniature creatures on TLC that live in a big world... well in this establishment, I too, live in a big world.  If they lived in my neighborhood, those midgets would have to eat one another's teeny little bits because they'd starve.  They could never shop at the local supermarket.

Holy shit.  I know exactly how they feel... with their itty bitty fingers. Ha.