So today in my idle wandering I ended up, with my father, in Cabelas for lunch; we where buying shotgun shells to prepare coming zombie apocalypse. Or was it that he was going trap shooting... I forget.

But anyway.

So here we are in line at the cafeteria style eating palace In the middle of the worlds greatest firearms and camouflage palace and the group in front of us is a family of, I shit you not, 19 people. now, as if being stuck behind a group of 19 mouth breathing, backwoods hill-rods from ages 10-50 on a pilgrimage to the 'Big City' to buy fishing gear, Oakley Blades and camouflage footie pajamas this group was apparently one cohesive family unit. a family unit which I would estimate to have a spread of, if they where lucky, 40 years between the youngest member and the oldest. When added up together they embodied every single whiskey-tango stereotype you could imagine from missing teeth to morbid obesity and fetal alcohol syndrome to just plain ugliness.

I simply could not, given all the other shit going on right now, deal with it. I actually had to leave the building and take a phone call to avoid having some form of aneurysm or psychotic break; while this sounds highly intolerant, even for me, please understand that it took them a full half hour to complete the order, which they had started [i]before[/i] we arrived to the point we could place ours. Mind you at that point they had still not navigated the savage gauntlet known as the cashier. In fact the cashier proved to be such a vexing obstacle that their transaction was put on hold so we could bypass them.

Dear god the real world makes me want to shit myself.

In better news I am on may way to a nice cheap beer buzz for the evening.

In worse news I think my intolerance of the real world is turning me into an alcoholic....