The lady at my Donut Shop asked me if I was getting fatter. Well the answer to that question is decidedly "yes" since (A) - I go to a Donut Shop enough for the lady to know my stature and its daily changes. And (B) - There is no "B". "A" said it all. I of course just shrugged and smiled shyly, not really knowing how to answer a question like that.
Ten minutes later into my drive, after using no less than four of her dumb Donut-Shop-napkins to dry my tears, I thought of a good comeback. "Bitch!" I said out loud. The person next to me (predictably) noticed my outburst, and I (predictably) pretended to be talking on my bluetooth*.
I am not getting fat! I don't even like donuts. I only go for the coffee. Wait a minute! WHOLE MILK!!! That's it. She has been putting whole milk in my coffee this entire time! The sneaky sneak face! And she has the nerve to ask me questions about alleged excess fat in such a "concerned-outsider" fashion. As if she had nothing to do with it being there. UGH!!!!
Well, tomorrow, I'll show her. I'll end her maniacal plan to fatten me up for her people stew! HA lady, watch this...I'm gonna shell out the extra ten extra cents for a vanilla-flavored fake creamer vial!
Vanilla creamer will go much better with my croissant anyway.
*Not sure how people explained away their craziness before there were blueteeth. I suppose they were all just deemed schizophrenic, put away, released again by Reagan, laid low till the mobile phone was invented, got themselves a bluetooth, a Lexus, a job as a Search Engine Optimizer, and lived HEA ("happily ever after" for you non-tweeters).
is your donut lady asian?
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