I Don't Know Why I Even Try. Seriously, WTF is Wrong With Me?!

Remember that time that I got in a fight with a dude over a shopping cart and then later admitted to child abuse and Anthony said he'd never go shopping with me again? Yeah, well, jokes on Anthony because I'm a fucking master of guilt tripping Jedi Master and he went with me again. Sucker. Oddly enough, the entire shopping trip went pretty well. We got food, I managed to remember most of the things we needed even though I didn't have a list and Ayla was all in all pretty content. It was probably the most successful shopping trip we've had in terms of actually accomplishing what we were supposed to.

I'll have you know that I even kept track of my own cart so I wouldn't get in undue fisticuffs with a stranger (which is probably good because the people in front of us were two older ladies and I've seen firsthand how scary old ladies can be: those vicious manxes.) So it came time to pay and... you know what? Before I get into the rest of this I'm going to give some background information:
I am a dog trainer and I have a little treat pouch that is pretty much a slimmer version of a fanny pack. I always put my treat pouch in my purse because otherwise I forget to bring it to class. Anyways, I keep a Ziploc baggie in there that I then fill with treats (usually string cheese.) Being who I am, I often forget to clean the pouch out after doggy classes.

So, back on track to the story at hand.

It came time to pay and I reached into my purse and (for reasons unknown to me) into the treat pouch. I proceeded to start to hand the cashier a small handful of cut up two-day-old string cheese. Honestly I probably would have attempted to complete the transaction if the look she gave me wasn't one of such utter confusion/disgust/concern. Yep, it was her face that tipped me off that I must have done something colossally stupid. Sure enough, I was somewhat abashed but instead of just laughing it off and explaining myself like a sane person "Oh wait, my card isn't filed with the cheese." fell out of my face-hole before I even put the cheese back in the pouch. Damn, damn, DAMN. Who the hell files anything with the cheese in the first place?! Cheese always gets its own place! Why do I always say weird things?!

Lucky for me, the cashier was very understanding (or she thought I was a lunatic and that smiling and reassuring me was the best course of action to remain unscathed) and kindly accepted my real debit card. I am also lucky that Anthony was too busy bagging groceries and keeping Ayla from flinging her tiny body out of the shopping cart to know what was going on. At this rate, he might even go shopping with me again. And that is the moral of the story: it only counts as a crazy moment if your significant other witnesses it.