Just when I was cruising through life on auto-pilot, the cosmos springs this scenario on me. [Standing behind Sista' at the convenience store with beer in my hand ready to get home and crash.]

Clerk: Hotwings? How many? And your gas was forty bucks. Anything else?

Sista: A pack of ________.

Clerk: May I see your ID please?

Sista: Gimme some taters'n gravy with them wings.

Clerk: *boxes up the chicken and rings it all up*

Sista: ...and a pack of _________.

Clerk: ID please.

Sista: WTF??? How stupid.

Clerk: It's the law. (She's earning her stripes on this one with the manager.)

Sista: Ok then, you stupid f**ker...gimme my change, honky.

Clerk: Watch the attitude, biatch.

Sista: ATTITUDE! You the one with the attitude girl.

Clerk: Yo' momma.....

Poopie steps back to keep from gettin' her chops busted and the manager moves in to break it up. "I suggest you don't come back" she says meekly.

Poopie: You done good girl. She had it comin'.

Clerk 2: Shit. She does this all the damn time. She KNOWS we're gonna ask for ID and she just does it for fun to raise hell.

*sigh*

Is it Friday yet?