I Apologize for My Momentary Angst. Now, Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Programming...
Sometimes, the mundane experience of one person can serve as a metaphor for what's ailing an entire society.

For example, I went to the grocery store last night to buy cookie-baking supplies for this week. The store was out of flour. Flour! Well, all-purpose flour, anyways. But they had highly-visible, prominately placed, well-stocked shelves full of plush Chihuahuas in Christmas sweaters who barked out "Feliz Navidad" when you squeezed their tummies.

I also couldn't find cookie tins. Or those little mini-M&M's I wanted to use to decorate my cookies.

Now, it seems that we consumers need to stage a rebellion. Retailers and their evil marketing lackeys have decided that in order to find the things we need, we must navigate through a store full of cheap crap in hopes that we will see it and buy it. As someone who frequents grocery stores and big-box retailers, I can tell you that they also rearrange the store periodically so you can't just find what you need and escape quickly.

In my opinion, it's these little annoyances that wear on a person and cause depression and anxiety. What if we all stopped taking our Zoloft and Paxil and went insane on their asses? What if I abandoned all pretense of socially acceptable behavior, and started ripping open packages and throwing things around the store?

"Where's my fucking flour??!!" I could scream. "What's this? Cornmeal? I can't bake fucking Christmas cookies with cornmeal!!! What's WRONG with you fuckwads??!!"

Then, I could take every last one of those ugly, annoying, useless barking Chihuahuas and put them in the roaster with the rotisserie chickens.

While I was considering my various ape-shit options, a stock boy appeared with a new flour supply. If only they new how close they had come to utter mayhem in their store.
Name: Übermilf
Location: Chicago Area

If being easily irritated, impatient and rebellious is sexy, then call me MILF -- Übermilf.

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Perverts, scram. There's nothing for you here.

Now, who wants cupcakes?

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