I work at Publix in Atlanta somewhere between Midtown and Buckhead, the gayest, faggiest place in Atlanta, if not the entire world and I have to deal with homosexuals hitting on me all day. I won't lie, most of them stop trying to talk to me when they see that I don't even acknowledge their existence, don't even turn my head when I talk to them and don't even bother to make any reasonable for of eye contact with them as I see them as space wasters, thank god for most of them having the ability to be respectful enough to not persue a straight person, but damn them for existing anyway.

To the main point though. There is one "couple" that make my already stressful job even harder to deal with. The man of the relationship is about 6 feet 8 inches tall, the heavier end of 200 lbs with a gut, a hairlip and the most stereotypical kiddy diddler mustache you have ever seen to hide his hairlip. His boyfriend (the girl in the relationship) is short, small, wears tight shorts that ride up in his crotch creating male cameltoe of epic proportions not worth being seen, tight shirts that accentuate his puffy ass nipples and a beer gut to go along with his disgusting handle bar mustache. To put the cherry on the nigger sundae though, the man in the relationship "likes me".

The fucking asshole follows me around my department standing to my left, zipping to my to my right, sneaking around behind me, looking at the side of my expressionless face while picking up a piece of broccoli and smelling it as I try to stay strong, asking me "whats up?", "how are you doing?", I don't respond at all of course, I just get mad inside and pretend I don't see him. Then if I am working on apples, he will stand at the end of the first aisle and stare at me for minutes on end in the same, unwavering position until I turn around and he averts his head and eyes so fast that his right hand involuntarily crashes into the tortilla rack, sending, soft bread flattas, charizos and canned Mexican baby eel snacks all over the floor. Come on, do Mexicans even look at canned baby eels, who eats that shit let alone a white faggot?

The first time the guy saw me, I was just finishing apples, loaded my empty boxes onto a cart and began rolling when this guy appears, he stops behind me. Being the observant person I am, I look behind me to see the guy stopped, I begin moving and he begins following at my pace, I turn around, he's staring at me, I slow down, he slows down, I speed up, he speeds up, all the while keeping his eyes on my backside. So I round the corner to the backroom and the faggot stops on the fucking feminine hygiene aisle since it is the only one that looks into the backroom and pretends he is looking at tampons, summers eve douches and scented pads. So I throw the boxes away, take a peak out the backroom door and he is still standing there staring, waiting, intrigued, he sees me catch his dumbass again and he drops the box of decorated panty liners he was so interested in.

This is not an "I need some advice" thread but I will say this. I have told my boss, I have told my manager, I have told all the associates I work with and yet, the motherfucker still comes into work to bother me. This thread is a promise that next time this faggot, homo, son of a bitch has the shriveled up shit stained balls to come and bug me at my place of work, a place I already have a hard time dealing with due to shitty management and niggery co-workers who rag on about how great Obama is all damn day, I will have a good story for VNN.