It's a Sunday afternoon at Fred Meyer on Lombard. Aka. F***ing crazy. It's a fine dance of making eye contact, smiling awkwardly as you move by tweleve other people in one aisle. I usually can keep my shit together. I'm thoughtful and aware of my surroundings. Your man and your kid walked close next to me, looking at applesauce or some shit. He had a basket with a few things in it. They were blocking me a little, but your bf/husband/whoever noticed and tried to move. Then you showed up, parked your basket next to your man's (why a family of three need two huge baskets I'll never know) and proceeded to look at something directly in front of me. I tried to move, but your kid was nearly standing on my feet. Your arm stretched out to the shelf, almost hitting my face. Your man kept asking you to move since he too saw how inconsiderate your were being. And in pure "I'm on planet ME" form, when he finally got your attention, you said "well, people can say EXCUSE ME if they need to get by." You ignored my existence as you walked on with your two fucking baskets and your one fucking kid. Like a lamb to the slaughter, your boyfriend looked painfully in my eyes as if he were apologizing. So Queen oblivious, I hope to God that your man can put up with your terrible attitude long enough to teach your kid some human decency, because we are aware you would be incapabale. And in the meantime, you can take that passive aggressive rude shit to a New Seasons, you dumb jerk.