Christmas: It brings out the Tourette’s in everyone, I suppose.

Yesterday Jesse and I decided to brave the stores to get gifts for those last few people on our list. We were out and about for 3½ long and terrible hours, getting almost nothing accomplished, before our day of fun ended with this happy note:

We went to Target. I can’t even remember now what we went for, but Jesse and I were diligently searching for something. We’re crossing one of the main aisles and I had to wait (after Jesse has already crossed) because this lady was walking, very fast, cup-o-scalding-coffee in hand, right between Jesse and me. Fearing that I’d end up with some stranger’s Venti-Soy-Egg Nog-Latte burning a hole through my flesh, I stopped and waited. I refrained from saying anything mean to the inconsiderate shopper, but when Jesse turned around and saw me a good 20 feet behind him, he gave me a kind of quizzical look that seemed to call for an explanation of the situation.

“This lady was just making a beeline across the aisle, not paying attention to where she was going and she had this giant cup of coffee in her hand,”

(random inconsiderate lesbian standing in front of us) “Look, bitch… shut up!”

“Ummm… I wasn’t even talking to you.”

(Jesse) “Don’t talk to my wife that way!”

(random inconsiderate lesbian now walking away) “You don’t talk about anyone that way!”

I put on my biggest smile and wave to her, “Merry Christmas!”

This pretty much ruined the shopping trip. I was actually fine once I reconciled in my head that she was most likely mentally ill or something (and also a lesbian), but Jesse was really upset. As we’re standing in line to check out, Jesse said, “If she were a man, I would have hit her. You should have hit her.”

“Well, I thought about that. But then I thought, ‘How white-trash to get in a fight with some random stranger in the middle of Target.’ I didn’t want to be that girl.“