Today was shaping up to be a boring day, so I did what I always do when I’m in need of content, I went food shopping.  I knew things would go wonderfully when I saw a woman pick up and intensely comparing two cans of soup for nutritional information and I could tell that she took health seriously.  She was somewhat slim and while fleet of foot, slow of mind as after I looked at the soup rack, she was comparing two cans of the same exact type of soup.Things were smooth until check-out when the cheerleader-reject doing the check-out did everything in her power to avoid bagging.  For instance, once all groceries were put on the counter but not yet scanned as the food backlog prevented items from going over the scanner I started bagging and rather than her helping, she’d simply wait until I’d cleared space and scan another item and twiddle her hair and plan what she was going to wear to the box social or sock hop with the dunderheaded cheerleader-reject #2 across the way.  Finally, she asked me for my phone number instead of my Genuardi’s card and I indicated I could probably handle that myself.  BAD MOVE!

Like many lower animals, proto-cheerleaders can detect pheromones to determine mood and intent and apparently my fierce-sarcasm-and-arrogance gland was working overtime.
Her: Would you like help bagging?
Me: Yes (thinking my initial guess was wrong).
Her: Cory (or some other new-wave name)! Help bagging! (Vindicated!)
Cory (to her): So are you going to the Phillies game tomorrow?
Her: Yeah.  I hope it doesn’t rain more today or they might cancel the game. (WTF?)
Cory (to me): Are you going to the Phillies game tomorrow?
Me: Me?  No, I’ll be going to work.
Her: Was that an insult?
Me: No *confused look*
Her: What’s your problem with baseball?
Me: Nothing  *confused look*
Her: Okay. *Disgusted look*  Would you like help to your car or can you take care of that to?

Is there some secret handshake I used indicating that I was a dick or is my condescending air just that powerful?