Here's a scene involving a self-righteous, over coddled consumer. And for once I wasn't on the receiving end of the bullshit, merely a witness. Does that make me an accessory? Maybe a little.

This took place at a discount grocer, one that was a tad crowded on account of the hour. It was that pre-dinner/post-work hour when everyone gets the exact same bright idea at the same time to go out and do groceries (or return their cable equipment). Luckily for those people who are in a hurry and are only in for a few items, the express lane was created. It's a wonderful system, when it works, and it helps evryone. But we don't live in a world where people's primary objective is the well being of everyone around them, and so ultimately you will always wind up with people who just needed that 9th item, and take it upon themselves to make the executive decision that they don't deserve to be lumped into the same line as people who are stocking up on a full load of groceries, and they take the express line. And what kind of terrible person would sentence them to the terrible fate of waiting through another line for 10 minutes, after they've just waited patiently in the express line (which is always just as long, if not longer) all for the sake of, what? A cucumber? Or a loaf of bread? Or that impulsively purchased pack of gum that they taunt you with next to the checkout? Fair enough. It might make you grumble but deep down you know you'd likely do the same thing in their position. We all need our 9th item from time to time.

But then there are people who are just downright wrong. The sort of people who plead ignorance or senility when they know damn well the rules, or the language. The people who take advantage of their position, and of the kindness or politeness (however forced) of other people. And it's especially disturbing when the only people these actions hurt are the innocent consumers in line behind them. You know the sort of people I'm talking about--the old, foreign woman who brings what is obviously over 10 items, maybe even 15 items, to the 1-8 items express lane.

The poor cashier was clearly already having a rough evening, and as she was ringing up the items she says to the old woman, with some saintly sanctioned patience, "just so you know, this is an express lane. You can't have more than 8 items."

The old lady mumbles something in her thick, eastern European accent. Something like "ok, ok."

"But you've done this before. You can't do it anymore."

"Nobody tells me this before..." Really pouring on the accent here.

"Yes, we did. And there's a sign up there. " She points to the sign.

"How come I can't come here?" With much more broken English than depicted here.

"Because it makes everything slower."

"Its ok, don't worry about it" - and I swear she tried to laugh it off like it wasn't a big deal and there wasn't a pile of customers behind her.

But then, having some genius insight that maybe this girl was doing her a favour by letting her stay in the line, generosity strikes her. She hands the cashier a quarter. By everything pure and good in this world, I swear this is true - a quarter. Or perhaps it could have been a twonie. Either way.

At some point during this I felt compelled to say something. I think somewhere during the woman's "confusion" about why she couldn't pay in the express lane I may have done something to the effect of calling her a cheater. Was I out of line? Perhaps. I feel I should have done more. I should have told her off for all the times I wanted to tell off a customer but couldn't. But she was a little old lady, she probably has grandchildren and children who count on her for more than she can provide, and the express line is a small blessing in her otherwise dismal day.

Did I mention I hate sob stories?

I'm turning into a horrible person because of this job. Or is that just the guilt trip that old people thrive on putting in the young?

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I'm at work the other day, minding my own business and being half-dead from four hours of sleep the night before when a woman carrying a mysterious treasure sack approaches me. She asks me if we take cell phones back to be recyled and I tell her we sure do. She hands me her bag of wonders and lo, what do I find in it but a nokia 5310 (red)!

Surely, I thought, this couldn't possibly a perfectly functioning unit with the majority of the warranty still intact! But further investigation proved it to be so. What luck! And it was there for the taking.

"Dibs!" I call, seeing the covetous look in my co-worker's eyes.

And that's pretty much how I came into a free, like new, pretty high end cell phone for no reason. Of course I still use and love my iPhone, but I do get bored easily, and I've been meaning to get a backup to use when I want to go somewhere where I'd be afraid of losing my iPhone. Or don't have the means to carry around it's bulk.

Needless to say I thought it was strange that the universe was being so generous that day. And then I wondered how often the universe acted in my favour as opposed to how often it was out to get me. And to settle this, I've decided to start a tally of all the things that happen to me that seem unusually lucky or unusually unlucky. Here's where I stand so far:

Universe for - 1
Universe against - 0

I figure I'll give the universe the benefit of the doubt and start with a positive event. We'll see who wins in the end, me or the universe.

Stay tuned!

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Today, as I was waiting in line to order lunch from one of the cafeterias at my school, there was a guy in front of me ordering a salad. The peculiar part about it was that he asking for "everything but the greens" - meaning the lettuce. And this got me thinking about what makes a salad a salad.

The lady serving him seemed as confused as me. Her tongs kept reaching towards re lettuce bin, instinctively, like the lettuce belonged on his plate. And it did! If there's no lettuce then that is no longer a salad, my friend, it is a vegetable cocktail. With chicken.

Anyway. Just thought that was worth mentioning.

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I will continue to watch any movie with Simon pegg in it. However, I have not yet cone to terms with the fact that they will not all be as good as Shaun of the Dead.

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Fade in on the new volume of Heroes, cut to Nathan Petrelli speaking to a middle aged African-American, whom he eventually refers to as "Mr. President." Boy I can't wait until that becomes the most trendy thing to do ever. Hey, you wanna be edgy? How about casting a chick, even? Luc Besson did it better. Just sayin.

I think I've run out of things to talk about. Clearly.

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I just finished my last test for the term, I am officially free for the next four weeks.

I've heard rumours that we'll be watching The Simpsons in my contemporary animation class. Score!

Also, I just got back a paper and got 86, even though it was filled with typos. I don't think I proofed it. Oh well, go me anyway.

The story thing worked out too. I ended up writing about a robot love story. And it turned out better than I thought it would, at least for something I wrote in a night.

In conclusion, I rule.

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