Anne Hathaway

So Target can be an interesting place. While not as colorful as Walmart at any hour of the day, it holds a few gems that any experienced people-watcher would love to see.
One of those unexpected gems would be our lovely Anne Hathaway.
Everyone seems to love her. She's goddamned everywhere and it seems that most studios are now legally required to send her their scripts regardless of whether they want her for a roll or not.
I'm not here to complain about how Hollywood seems to latch onto the 'next big thing' and saturate the big screen with them so much that we eventually end up hating them, no matter how talented they are/could have been.
I'm here to bitch about Anne Hathaway and her obnoxious inability to comprehend spatial awareness.

"WTF AM I DOING?"

For those of you who know me, I hate it when people are oblivious to their surroundings, and as a result oftentimes completely ignore the fact that they ever possess peripheral vision. My main complaint is when someone is in a store of any kind that requires the use of shopping carts and they plant their cart in the middle of the aisle and then browse at their leisure. Unless you make some kind of noise, clear your throat, bump something, etc, nothing will get their attention. The store is theirs. The aisle is their kingdom. Screw you, peasant, for even considering shopping in their realm.

Long story short: Anne Hathaway was in Target and her cart was literally sideways in the aisle. SIDEWAYS. It was if she Tokyo drifted into the aisle and come to a screeching stop right before she destroyed the hand mixers. Staring at price tags, mumbling to herself, my presence was not an issue and I was less important than acting lessons. That last comment was mean, but I was angry.

I now administer a 'break' whenever entering an aisle in a store, regardless if there is someone else there or not. It's like me marking my territory. And impossible to ignore. I pick up the rear wheels of my cart and let them drop to the floor. Usually aided by the linoleum, they make it sound as if I accidentally scraped my wheels against the floor in a sharp turn.

Anne Hathaway does not react.

I do it again.

Anne Hathaway scratches at her nose and continues mumbling.

I roll my cart right up to her and say 'Excuse me, Anne Hathaway, I'm-' and she cuts me off with a wave of her hand and an instinctual 'Please, not now, I'm just trying to blend in.'
I stare at her for a few seconds. She continues to ignore me. I finally say 'Anne Hathaway, get your damned cart out of the middle of the aisle.' That does the trick. She looks at me, eyes flashing anger, but then quickly replaced with recognition.
'You... It's you. The guy who meets the people.'
'Holy hell, did you hear about me through-'
'Nick Cage.' She cuts me off again. 'He warned me.'
'Well, I don't care about that, I just want you to move your cart, for f-'
'Please. Please don't write anything bad about me.'
'I wasn't planning on it, but this is-'
'Please don't write anything bad about Les Miserables.'
'Anne, I haven't even seen Les Mis-'
'Please! Don't say- wait, what? You haven't seen Les Mis-'
'No!' I finally cut HER off! Yay me! 'I haven't seen it because the trailers made it seem like you whine and cry and cut off your hair and sing and these are all things that no one my age and gender give two shits about.'
'Really?'
'Yea. Really. Get your fucking cart out of the aisle and stop sucking all the time.'

Would you believe it? She started crying, so I left.