I go to the grocery store...for groceries.

Ah, the grocery store.

The place where all our food dreams come true. The place where they've gotten so damn cheap and lazy, that we now work them and use the "U-Scan" and the place where the Atkins Diet people have made the price of beef go sky high.

I like the grocery store.

You see, I have this Sunday morning ritual going. I get up, read the sports section over a cup of coffee, grab a quick bite to eat and out I head to the store.

Its my "quiet time". My time to chill out and gather for the family. You know "hunters, gatherers"? We men do it all.

Sure, I have to figure out what coupon is still good and how much lunchmeat to buy, but hey, for an hour and a half, its just me, the shopping cart, a cup of coffee and, and, and, and...

PEOPLE WHO TRY TO SELL ME SHIT AND WANT MY MONEY AT THE FRONT DOOR!!!

That's right. At the front door of the store.

You know what I am talking about. Its all about those evil-doers who try to take our hard-earned grocery bucks before and after we leave the store.

Boy Scouts who try to sell you the stale ass popcorn in a can.

The Girl Scouts who sell their overpriced, not-as-good-as-they-used-to-be cookies.

Those guys who sell those newspapers no one reads (with apologies to my good friend Kahuna who does such a wonderful job for a local Goodfellows group).

The firefighters who are raising money for something or other.

The police (ditto the firefighters).

The local Little League Baseball or Football group selling something.

Groups of cheerleaders selling something.

Will this madness ever stop?

I don't want to be bombarded at the front door of the store, either on my way in or on my way out. Leave me alone. Heck, I'm a charitable and giving guy. Just don't take my cash when I am busy trying to figure out what type of detergent I need to buy.

Seriously. These groups all have good causes. But I don't want to see them EVERY TIME I go to the store. Just once, let me walk in and out in peace without having to run the gauntlet of guilt and go past them while some cute, little Brownie girl gives me the sad eyes and talks me into the Peanut Butter Patty (why don't they call them that anymore? What is the name of that cookie anyway, "Tagabout" or something stupid like that?).

Alright. I'm done.

But don't get in the way of this shopper.

When I am done U-scanning, I am spent.

Literally.