Today’s Tirade: It’s That Time of the Month Again!

Picture of this month's calendar

Every month around this time, the most dreadful bodily function occurs after much procrastination on my part, having put off what needs to be done, and subsisting on whatever has been stored away for such a self-imposed dilemma.

It may seem funny at first glance, reading the title of today’s tirade, to consider the proclamation is stated so frankly by a male; but nevertheless, this personal predicament would be welcomed gladly by females in place of what many may have interpreted here initially, as to what the exact meaning of “that time of the month” is in actuality.

For this writer it’s gathering up the initiative to get to the supermarket and do the dreaded food-shopping. Resorting to canned ravioli and lasagna for dinner for the past few nights, maybe even splurging on a can of sardines when I’ve run out of everything, is what causes my ultimate incentive for doing the dirty deed.

Something always happens to cause an annoyance, unfortunately, making the chore even more unpleasant. Perhaps it’s my fault for making only a monthly trip for storing up on groceries to last for thirty days, however, I still have to stop into the store on occasion for when I run out of something unforeseen, like not picking up Saran Wrap today, for which the existent box had been about to run out, unbeknownst to me, as I tore the last piece off the roll while in the process of preparing what had to be placed in the freezer for safekeeping.

Today’s excursion to the market wasn’t different from any other jaunt, as far as running into rude individuals. One person was blocking the aisle while looking at Facebook on her iPhone. I happened to see the woman’s display as she turned to me after my saying, “Excuse me; may I get through?”

She looked at me as if I was inconveniencing her day. She even had the gall to thumb through what was left on the phone’s screen, so vital for her immediate perusal before getting the out of the *@#$%^ way! I felt like bumping her in the arse with my shopping cart, but restrained myself. I’d hate to land in jail for something as menial as that. Perhaps she would of enjoyed it. Who knows?

Then there were incidences of finding products with less quantity for the same price as before the manufacturer scrimped on their merchandise, thinking they were fooling me with their cost-cutting tactics. Suppliers of thirty-gallon garbage bags lowered their count from fifty per carton to forty, packaged in the same-sized box, but not lowering the price.

Paper plates that had gone down to ninety-five pieces from one hundred were being offered in quantities of ninety, eliminating five more plates, yet, of course, keeping the price the same. That’s highway robbery if you ask me.

I don’t know why I let things like this bother me. Perhaps from being on a fixed income is one reason. Too bad my benefits don’t go up as easily as price hikes do in the food stores. Besides those attempted deceptions, the cost of everything else is going up, up, up, matching my blood pressure after each trip to the supermarket.

Finally, just as I pulled into the checkout counter with the smallest line, the cashier shut off her on-duty light and cheerfully told me she’s closed. I had gotten there a split-second before she turned it off, adding more to my blood-pressure reading, I suppose; but not worth arguing about.

I moved over to the next counter, behind a lady who couldn’t remember her debit card’s pin number, and was calling home to have someone find her notebook with all her passcodes inscribed, so she could complete her transaction. Pow, zoom to the moon!

Oh well, life could be worse. People are starving, living in the street, homeless, wondering where their next meal is coming from; and I’m worried about five less paper plates. Methinks I need to change my priorities and lighten up.

The best part of all of this is having an assortment of goodies on which to pig out later that night, such as I have been doing while scribing this rant. As a rule of thumb, I expect to gain some weight during the first few days after completing the unsavory chore, cutting back on my feasting after two extra pounds show up at my daily weigh-in.

For those familiar with my past references to the Green Coffee Bean diet I was on for a good portion of last year, I’ve remained constant with my intended poundage, even weighing a pound less this morning. My diet had changed radically, for which I’ve been faithful to that regimen, splurging every now and then, albeit, and continuing with my exercise program. It doesn’t come easy.

So until the next tirade, happy shopping!


About Mike Slickster

As an early retiree with an honorary doctorate degree from the proverbial "School of Hard Knocks," this upcoming author with a lot of free time on his hands utilizes his expansive repertoire for humorous yet tragic, wildly creative writing that contains years of imaginative fantasy, pure nonsense, classic slapstick, extreme happiness and searing heartbreak; gathered by a wealth of personal experiences throughout his thrilling—sometimes mundane or unusually horrid—free-spirited, rock-'n'-roller-coaster ride around our beloved Planet Earth. Mike Slickster's illustrious quest continues, living now in Act Three of his present incarnation, quite a bit on the cutting edge of profundity and philosophical merriment as seen through his colorful characters, most notably evident in the amusing Thirty Days Across the Big Pond series, all of which can be found at
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