If you are here to hear about dog agility or something might as well keep moving along.

Have you ever split your fattest pair of fat pants at work jumping onto a pony's back then had to make a special trip to the Gap 15 minutes before it closes to dig through sale stacks of pants ($18.99) that the guy with the Gap Bluetooth BritneySpears-a-phone for talking to God just arranged and had them all come falling down onto your dirty head and start saying potty words and fling your purse down so the keys and sunglasses and apple core and tampons and unmailed father's day card and pens and change go skittering across the floor as Bluetooth guy come floating back on his I HEART Gap cloud offering to pick them up and starting in with some crap about he is here to help you and Allow Him to pick up the four thousand unstacked jeans from the tidy stack you just decimated and the only thing that comes out of your mouth, eyes all narrowed and ready to shoot a poison eyeball dart right at his summery Gap ensembled little self is, "I can't f***ing believe I'm buying size 8 pants at the Gap."

Maybe you say this in a particularly spiteful way when it happens to you, like the word G-A-P is hissed in a spittle sound with a pronounced P like Puck and bless his little Bluetooth Gap Guy heart, so well trained in customer service, Cloud Floater just gives you a wry smile that could be interpreted as "It's OK, fattish lady," but really probably really meant, "I hate these goddamn closing shifts as much as I hate having a barbed whisker catfish burrow it's way into my ear canal instead of my Bluetooth and Damn Britney Spears and her spawn and these LAYDEEEZ coming in here shredding my pant stacks."