2006-01-30 - 11:40 a.m.

Ever been punched in the neck?

Me neither, but yesterday I was attacked by a rogue freezer door in the supermarket.

I don't know what was supposed to be so super, but to me, it's the crapmarket-by the way.

I was already pretty cranky, despite just having treated myself to a brand new tv/vcr/dvd combo for my bedroom.

We have two grocery stores right close to one another and we usually start at the cheaper of the two. The thing is, it's always packed and the aisles are something like a half a foot wide. You can't move one carriage down the aisle without having to bob and weave around the cardboard displays for things no one needs.

If two people need to move in the same aisle it's a full on, West Side Story minus the singing turf war.

I've made my way through the hot zones, most of my limbs still intact and I'm in the home stretch. I need only one more thing to complete my grocery needs for the week. One frozen fish dinner.

All the fancy schmancy bistro boxed frozen entrees in the world can't beat a good old fashioned fish sticks and fries for my money.

I open the door and remove my dinner. When I do the entire row of dinners falls down, just as the door closes. I could just walk away, but instead I reopen the door to fix the mess.

These are new freezer doors and they are heavy. I hear my family member mumble something about having it so I assume she's holding the door for me while I fix the fishstick waterfall.

Nope. She's watching my purse. The door comes slamming closed on my neck.

People. PEOPLE. You do not know pain until you have had a slam to your neck.

Naturally there is the embarassment of everyone watching you slam your neck in a frozen fish door.

Then there's the added bonus of your family member yelling "You have to HOLD THE DOOR OPEN OOMM" across the store.

Then there's the slow loss of your periferal vision and the horror that you believe you're going to pass out with your head in the broccoli.

I didn't pass out.

I thought I would, and I had to go sit down and my vision was hazy and I became nauseous for more than an hour. But I didn't pass out.

I did hit two of the cardboard racks and one wire rack on the way out and didn't give a shit.

I didn't stop to pick up what I'd dropped for fear that some giant Stouffer's Corner Bistro Dinner display box would drop from on high and my obituary would read:

OOMM, 39, killed by "Tender strips of seasoned,grilled white meat chicken tossed with bowtie pasta,asparagus,mushrooms and sun-dried tomatoes,topped with a creamy,roasted garlic sauce." is survived by her dog, who is still sniffing the grave for the last of the gravy.

I'll pass.

So the moral of the story is?

If you really hate someone, punch them in the neck. It hurts like a summabitch.

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