Bitch Ain't Listenen...Orlando Style

Today I had several errands to run.

I had to get bunny food for my unearthly cute rabbits whom are a constant reminder of the worst filmmakers of our time (this is for my regular readers...new people, get off your lazy, good-for-nothing asses and read my whole blog).
I had to go to the grocery, ship some Ebay stuff and finally, I had to stop at my apartment office and complain about a maintenance request.

(a quick aside - my apartment complex clearly employs "Make a Wish" foundation kids who want to be maintenance men at mid-priced apartment complexes in Florida. That is the only explanation for the need to repair the same pipe under the same sink for the third time).

So I'm in line at the PetSmart very near my apartment. The girl ringing me up is about 17 or 18 years old, as are all the girls that work at PetSmart (kitties are cute!). Anywho, she's got a black and blue mark around her neck. It's clearly not a little love nibble. It looks like she was choked to death and brought back to life by the PetSmart people to ring register for 6.00 an hour. I tried not to stare, and went to the post office next.

The line at the post office in Orlando is always long but surprisingly, always fast. The line was about 10 or 12 people deep, but it only lasted about 6 or 7 minutes. In that time, I noticed the girl two people ahead of me had a giant bruise on her shoulder. It was an odd shape and fading, but it was very large, about the size of a baseball. Coincidence? I decided they obviously deserved it, they have Fallopian tubes.
I walked into the grocery store an made a b-line for the deli counter. They have some awesome "summer salad" which is code for Greek salad down here. I suppose the dirty Greeks pulled some nasty shit on the Floridians, because if your salad has feta cheese and olives in it, it was made in the Goddamned summer, and no swarthy Mediterranean bastards had anything to do with it, OK?

The girl behind the deli counter scooping up my summer salad had a black eye. No ambiguous bruise, no strange markings, she had a friggin black eye. Images of an all-female, Orlando retail industry Fight Club spring to mind.

The girls that are baggage handlers and UPS drivers must do really well.

By the time I pulled into my apartment complex office, I was totally on bruise alert. Any woman within 100 yards I scanned for marks or signs of abuse. Maybe the skinny peckin guys around here strung their women up like pinatas. Whatever the trend, I had to find out what was up.

I walked into the office. The arms and shoulders of the first chick were clear. The older woman that ran the office...Also in good health.
Finally, the woman who could answer my questions about my maintenance request was free to talk to me. Her mid-fifties skin was tan, freckled, but otherwise unmarked. She said my request would be taken care of by the supervisor of maintenance.

So I punched that bitch right in the mouth.