How Close is Too Close…? (What the H?)

Today, Middle Daughter's guest post, "What the H?" shows you how not to make a good impression on her.

It may be that I am the only one in the world that has a problem with other strange people not respecting personal space but I don’t understand why people insist on standing so insanely close to another strange person.

It has happened many times, not just to me, but I have seen it done to other people and I could tell that they also have issues with people doing just that.

RESPECT THE BUBBLE and RESPECT PERSONAL SPACE!!!!!

I was at Target and I was just buying some necessities and it was around seven-thirty or so on a Tuesday night. Which meant that there are not many people in the store so there are not many workers at registers checking people out.

I got what I needed and headed towards the registers. There were four associates checking customers out and so I hopped in the shortest line since I only had three items I didn’t think that it would take long.

Ahead of me was a mother and her two children. Bless her soul she had a young daughter around the age of six as well as a little son around the age of four. I was staying back because I wanted to give her space because I CAN understand that concept. Plus nowadays when people shop they rarely use cash anymore so when they use their credit or debit cards they don’t want people standing too close to get their numbers or what not.

I had been waiting there a while because the mother before me had a bunch of stuff in her cart and all of a sudden I could feel someone breathing behind me. I turned around and noticed that there was another customer behind me. I looked at him as if to tell him “back off” but he didn’t seem to get the hint.

When the woman moved forward and was ready to swipe her card I did not move forward because I believed that she needed her privacy. The man behind me noticed that I didn’t move and he started huffing and puffing.

I did not place my items on the counter until the woman ahead of me was finished and ready to leave. As soon as she left I placed my items on the convey0r belt and proceeded to chat with the clerk behind the counter. The man followed suit and since he was standing too extremely close to me the woman checking me out asked if we were together or separate. I told her separate and she just checked out my items. I paid with cash and the man was standing so close to me I think that he could see my driver’s license and tell me my driver’s license number. I wanted to turn to him and tell him:

“Listen I would really appreciate if you would please step back because I am not happy with the fact that I can tell what you had for dinner because I can smell your breath. Thanks!”

But I didn’t. I paid and received my change and left.\

AWKWARD!

How many of you have felt the same way? Or is it just me?
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Middle does not know I'm adding this to her post:

And Smiles (Friday's Sunday's Poem/Hot Actress)

Rightfully Refunded
Tori


She doesn’t expect
to be repaid,
for the things she does.
They didn’t offer her
a silver platter,
or even a silver nickel.
The love she administers
isn’t contingent on
exchanges like that.

Pay and Respect
are two separate notions.
She grew accustomed to
the latter, it was all they
could give in terms
of reciprocation.
Respect.

And Smiles.
The kind that caused tiny
creases to break from the sides
of their glistening eyes.

She looked into those gems,
and before they could say
just how proud they were,
She knew.

So when he left,
when he picked up his bag,
and glanced for a moment,
so quick, an Olympic calibrated
clock couldn’t have caught it,
She was
Stunned.

A doe paralyzed by the blinding
glare of betrayal,
of lies,
of the realization that
nothing in this world can be
properly returned,
rightfully refunded.

____________________________________________________________

About the poem: Tori blogs at Little Miss Muffins, posting what can only be described as some of the best contemporary poetry around. I go and read her blog as often as I can, and you should, too. Quoting from her about me section:

I bake banana bread, clean my room in red high heels, and write little thoughts and things on index cards. I live in a small town, which I love leaving. I dream big and fast and have high expectations for myself and everyone else. I'm a grammar fanatic. I like to read and listen to music, especially jazz. Lunch has always been my favorite meal of the day, although I can't skip breakfast. Coffee plays too big a role in my daily life, and while I have recognized that caffeine is a drug, I do not care.

That itself is a kind of poetry. I mentioned to Tori that I liked her poems and would like to post one as Friday's Sunday's Poem, and as far as I can tell, this is the one she wanted me to post, although it's hard to tell for sure because we communicate by leaving comments on her blog. So it's a guess. But it's also a good poem.

What I like about Tori's poetry is the way it has a sort of rhythm of its own; the lines don't go in a sing-songy way but they still have a meter that's hard to grasp, and yet is there. That's really what separates poetry from prose, I think: poetry uses language for the sheer love of language, and the communication of that love of language is every bit as important as the communication of the message of the poem, whereas with prose, the love of language is clearly secondary to the message being conveyed.

Tori gets that. Go read her blog and comment on her poems.

About the Actress: Tracey Gold was on Growing Pains, and was pretty then. She's still pretty now. And she was in last week's Entertainment Weekly, which I only just read because Sweetie hides it from me by putting it in the basket where I told her we should put magazines. I never think to look where something's supposed to be.

I really think this says something about me, or society. Or both. (Thinking The Lions)

Toast:

Sandwich:

Breakfast:

Lunch:

Weird, right?