On Commerce

Sometimes I wonder if the cashiers at supermarkets and drug stores ever judge me when I walk up to the counter with my purchases.

Then I think, "Who the fuck are they?" and end up buying the most ridiculous crap I can think of just to mess with them harder, knowing they can't in open conversation say anything to me.

Let me tell you, there's nothing like walking up to some young ass on register with condoms, rubber gloves, vasoline, three bags of navel oranges and the latest copy of Martha Stewart Living.