Rant of the Day: Shopping

So I go to buy a couple fishing shirts. Columbia. You know the ones. They actually get cooler as you start to sweat. I figure I'm stuck in God's waiting room so might as well be comfy. This is the only reason why I was in a department store. No other. I'm a sniper shopper. One target at a time. The shirts are the target. One store at a time. No two on the same day. Infiltrate the store. Identify target. Acquire target, Get it, Get out. Boom. Done. So I don't find the ones I want. Figures. On the way out, I pass this guy. Well, guy-ish. Loafers with no socks. Short pants in a bubble-gum-meets-carrot color. Oxford shirt pulled out. Sleeves rolled up. And a scarf. A big, metro-sexual, my wife dressed me, flaccid attempt at euro I-don't-know-what freaking scarf. Instantly, I snort one of those "WTF is this jackass wearing" sort of giggles. It's not winter. It's not Paris. It's not a shemagh or keffiyeh, or ghutrah. He did it as a fashion accessory! Numbnut. It's 93-degree Florida! He has shorts on for shit's sake! As I pass him, someone says "nice scarf there, Nancy." Well, someone being me, judging by the mortified look on the wife's face, and the completely submissive, over-it, "I gave up long ago" look on dude. I keep my eye on them for a second or two longer, then turn and continue back out the door. Once outside, I chuckle and say "dipshit" out loud. I couldn't help it. Couldn't help the whole episode. It's like when I see a guy wearing Capri pants, I automatically and involuntarily bark "Man-pris!" It's a blurting problem. I'll do it in mid-sentence. I do the same thing for leggings, blurt "stretchy pants" and continue without missing a beat. Somebody has to stop me. Or join me. One thing I know for sure, I won't be sniper-buying a scarf anytime soon. Fish on...