Bakeries and other primary instincts Is it normal that there are always queues at bakeries LF? Yes, I know, is a question that has emerged today after I take more than twenty minutes after a group of parrots (or ladies, each one as you call them) who did everything but buy bread. I believe that hell must be more or less as a bakery, heat, smoke, and lots of torturing people with his incessant chatter. Some people call me I exaggerated to make this comparison. Well ... That is because they have never gone to buy bread.
Go for the bread has become quite an adventure for me. Enter the bakery, to accustom the light-laden air, breathing the fumes coming out of the oven, put up with the charlatans hell y. .. prevent hit by you that person goes back and forth carrying product that leaves on the counter and probably not even intend to buy. This particular specimen is totally fascinated me: it is able to keep all conversations while charging quite a farm in arms (eggs, milk cows ... and not because there is that but ...) and just never stamped against the ground. I tried to do once, but did not go well. Moreover, they put on the door of the bakery a poster with my picture on which was written: this girl has no entry to this facility. Since that day I had to change bakery.
Anyway, back to the people obsessed to cover up the bakery products ... I have a theory, and trauma is that they are small because they never had a lego game. We've all had sooner or later a lego game, right? Well, they do not . Now is to see a flat surface (in this case the counter), and try to make a wall with first caught (in this case, yoghurt, eggs and bollicaos). If Mr. Papa Noel had not been so stingy, many of us have avoided pushing, trampling, and the stress of seeing a woman running from one place to another to build your nostrils before the Berlin Wall based Danone products .
There
another specimen who runs a lot of bakeries and that worries me: the lady who is always leaning on the corner of the desk and never intend to buy anything. It's that air of a truck driver in a bar that has two roles in the hierarchy of a bakery: not buy bread (like everyone else, right?), and talk with anyone who comes near . I started thinking that is put there by the city to entertain the elderly. Because that is another: each time I go to buy bread no more than old, and I begin to wonder if it will be because there are two types of bakeries (those of younger and older men), and I always go by accident which is not for me. I have to learn this, not going to be that the youth have free drinks and donuts or churros I'm going always to that in the specimens there are only outsiders who make you buy the bread is a daily adventure.
is that however exaggerated it may sound, I suffer every time I set foot in that little hell. Especially when the truck is turned counter with his face to study Herminia top to bottom and start to question with such interesting questions as "Do you think it will rain?" Or comments like "you are spitting in my granddaughter" . These things, though not enough, it scares , Especially when they come from the lips of a lady with curls that is inside of a very small you probably can not go out because the hyper Danone Berlin Wall will be clogging the entrance.
The remaining persons are living in the bakery filling. Know their functions, but the thing is they do not see a package. And surely I'll be asking a question: "people buy their bread filling? No, do not buy bread, do not buy mussels and do not buy anything. What are there, what then? For to touch my nose.
I think that bakeries are an invention of psychologists to make money. You walk through the door, you find a truck with curls, a lady with a trauma with Lego toys and a lot of people more than makes your arrival to the desk is a mission impossible. Damn, they go crazy! whither go crazy? As a psychologist! Well, no, not all. There are some who are going to Big Brother, but hey, that's another invention that is beside the point.
And if you think that the world is full of inventions . Another clear example is the flies. Yes, the flies, the little things with wings so like a. .. so similar to other small things with wings. These emitting that noise so nice .... Bzzzzzzzzz .... Bzzzzz .... BZZZZZZZZZ. Nice, huh? As nice as they decide that your head is the gravitational center of the galaxy and start drawing circles around it true that satellite.
What happened to whom the invention of the fly? Is clear: the bartenders.
I explain: you're sitting in bed, thinking of your stuff (for example), and suddenly you hear. Bzzzz ..... Bzzzzz ... Bzzz. At first you think you should not have eaten so many beans , but after a while you realize that you who is producing the sound. No, that is, is this thing with a black pushpin has set up a perimeter around your head. It scrotumtightening, I think they are police complex, they just need to put a band around your skull to claim the territory as their own.
Anyway, what I was going. The fact is that at first it's funny, but there comes a time when the police pin begins to be weary and you start to get angry. But you hold, you hold pride and do not move, because a simple fly is not going to get crazy. And follow them round your head, follow, follow, follow ... And you and more red clown nose Micolor ... Until a time when you can not help. You wake up in bad milk, salt room shotgun (Fly decides to follow because he has grown fond of) and someone asks you where you go. "What where am I going? What where am I going? "(This is usually repeated twice to give more emphasis to the issue)," I go to the bar, to give me air! ". And that is, money you're investing in the tavern.
That's the thing flies, they just enfadándote to the point you get sick of them and end up blaming your personal misfortunes, that you've burned the rice and that hunger in the world. I have a theory, namely that the phrase "to be pissed" does not mean to be angry . Means to be being chased by a fly.
Anyway, back to the bakery, and finally, wanted to make a special mention to a character that I have much affection: afraid the old man is usually in a corner . Is that looking from side to side, bewildered, as two loaves of bread pressed against his chest as if his life depended on it. And it seems to me dear, because it reminds me that apart from truckers and construction of the Berlin Wall of Danone, the bakery people are normal, sane people who still has one thing clear and that will serve a purpose: buy bread.
Chao! Sometimes
