there is the infamous case of the guy following me (at an uncomfortable pace) between the tomatoes and oranges at the saint peter Econo Foods [though it might've still been More 4 at the point in time] "supermarket" [[we use the term loosely]], only to shoo away his two excitable children that had come rushing around the corner carrying sugary cereals and hopes for daddy's approval upon such breakfast choices.

this new instance...

strolling down the baking goods/spices aisle. a man stares. i stare back.

he is clearly homosexual. He is one of those overly fakebaked, manicured, maticulously eyebrowed, preened individuals--the sort that leaves one to wonder whether or not subject is actually human or careful facsimile of such.

eyes dart away. i stroll closer (as am en route to buy aluminum loaf pans.) eyes re-meet. he is obviously sizing me up and due to my recently groomed self and flourbuttereggsugarberry-free apparell is most likely led to believe that i, in fact, should care.

i'm looking in order to come to a conclusion as to the human question. at this point, i lean towards "robot plastique."

my cart passes his. he looks in and sees: 8 pounds of ground turkey in 1-pound tubes, 2 large boxes of insta-mashed potatoes, 10 tins of corn, 1# butter, 1/2 gallon whole milk, 2# green peppers, 3# yellow onions, bulk purchase of fennel seed and a #10 can of gravy. he scoufs. sours. looks to be appalled.

motherfucker TURNS UP HIS NOSE.

i think:
what!? I'M shopping to feed 40 people on 50 bucks... YOU'RE picking out spices from the 99cent selection of a suburban supermarket... don't you turn your nose up at me, robot.