Apparently I Am A Plastic Bag-Refusing Freak

As part of living in "Bizarro World," I've been trying to cut down on the amount of plastic bags we take home from every place.

I have been to the dump, folks, and it is not a pretty place. If you ever want to feel sick to your stomach at the sheer wastefullness of us human animals, take a field trip to your local dump. I remember standing in the sunshine, hand over my mouth in an asinine attempt to stop the stench, and watching hundreds of thousands of plastic bags swirling on the winds among the seagulls. The bags looked like ghosts hovering over a Dante-ish version of trash hell.

So today, fresh off my last post about plastic bags, I went to the mega-grocery store. I had three items: milk, a bag of buns and some not-so-healthy "Texas Crispers" fries. As I set these items down on the little moving belt thing, I immediately said, "I don't need a bag."

Checkout Woman: "You don't want a bag?"

Me: "No. No bag."

Checkout Woman: "But you got milk."

Me: "Yep. I have milk. It's got a handle, see?"

Checkout Woman (to Bag Boy): "This guy doesn't want a bag."

Bag Boy (to Me): "You don't want a bag?"

Me: "NO BAG."

Bag Boy (to no one): "Friday's pay day."

Checkout Woman: "You sure you don't want a bag? You got three items here."

Me: "I would not like my items bagged."

Bag Boy: "You got milk there, though."

At this point I just took my receipt, gathered my three items in my arms, and left. So, if you ever want to know what it's like to be treated like you're developmentally disabled, or have Alzheimer's or like you enjoy putting applesauce in your shoes, deny the bag.