Hola, Néih hóu, Bula, Bonjour, Aloha, Konnichi wa, Mogethin, Kia Ora, Hi

-Hola, Néih hóu, Bula, Bonjour, Aloha, Konnichi wa, Mogethin, Kia Ora, Hi-
No matter what your language, cadence, or creed, I'm glad you're here =)

"She's tired of flat lands and cornfields, Seashells traced in snow. She wants more bugs on her windshield, She don't want to go alone...She talks about her waterfall fountain, And her house out on the bay. She's in love with broken glass mountains, Fireplace cafes."

Translation, please!

Saturday, December 11, 2010

The Stomp of Shame

Today I would like to discuss something I think everyone struggles with. It is not only awkward, but embarrassing. It strikes when you least expect it. No one is immune. Ravaging grocery stores and other cart using enterprises across the world, ladies and gentlemen, The Stomp of Shame.

The Stomp of Shame is an event that tortures man, woman, and child alike. It has become a commonplace among busy shoppers, and even those with the luxury of meandering through the isles. Allow me to set the stage for you,

The store is brightly lit, as are most. There are shoppers, both slow and hurried, populating the isles, as there often are. Nothing is out of the ordinary on this day in Winco (Yes, Winco. Because I find this is where the Stomp of Shame tends to show its ugly face in my own life).

You yourself, are minding your own business, perusing the selection of tortillas or apples or eggnog (if we're being festive). You lean your elbows on the cart handle, placing your chin in your hand.

You lift your leg, bending at the knee (cue dramatic slow motion) to place your foot comfortably on the bar of the bottom layer of the cart.

This is when it strikes, when you least expect it. Whether you are viewing the milky delight that is eggnog, or perhaps you have paused your shopping experience for some friendly texting (or maybe "I forgot the list, do we need anything?" texting).

Your foot moves downward, searching for its resting place, and BAM! Hits the floor with a slap/thud (yes, it is a combination of the two sounds). People turn, searching for the child about to throw a tantrum and the parent they give sympathetic smiles to. But there is no such character in sight. Just the one loner and their cart, enveloped in the embarrassment that is the Stomp of Shame.

And everyone tries to pretend like it wasn't them. We avoid eye contact with the onlookers and pretend like there was no sound, and that we are simply overheated and THAT is why our faces have gone red.

There are always the few people who try to explain, and the people around them smile small, condescending, smiles and return to their shopping.

And the Stomper is left to the shame induced by their seemingly attempt at a hissy fit.

This has been -The Stomp of Shame-


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"And remember, this is for posterity's sake, so be honest. How do you feel?"