I for one think this lady deserves an applause and a curtsy. She has taken the question, "Do you have any diseases?" and replied with, "What do you fucking think?" Letting dudes know from the get-go (or your friendly neighbor at HEB, as seen above) to enter at their own risk, is thoughtful and communicative. I hate yapping girls almost as much as I hate zany dudes, and this broad had eliminated the yapping and cut straight to the chase. "Yeah, you can fuck me, but your penis will look like an inflamed, three-legged creature spawned from 12th & Chicon tomorrow. You in to it?"
I thanked her for the head's up, then moved my produce aside as her partner kept hocking up a lung while reading his Life & Style Magazine. He's a dick. Not because he's reading tabloids, but because he's hiding his 12th & Chicon with those long shorts. Also, you are only allowed to wear those disgusting house slippers to the grocery store when you're at Stage 4 12th & Chicon, no sooner. Dick.
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