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  • I'm standing in the frozen-treats aisle, scanning the low-carb options, when an impressive wave of crashing and breaking glass sounds from around the corner, stopping a passing manager in his tracks. And not a high-pitched demolition of drinking glasses, either. This is lower-register heavy glass and liquid.

    The manager grimaces, then screws his face up into squinchy-eyed fury, fists balled, and screams straight up at the ceiling, "FUCK!!!!!!"

    You know that feeling when you're standing too close to someone who's so truly pissed that you just want to pretend you're invisible? Me, too.

    But not the quiet woman standing even closer to him. She waits for him to semi-compose himself. As he starts to head over to the unseen disaster, she stops him and says something too soft for me to hear. I wonder if she's admonishing him for the profanity, but then he gets this incredulous look on his face and tells her, barely holding it together: "Try aisle eight."

    God, I love the grocery store.

    Image credit: Scream via Flickr under the Creative Commons License (
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