If I may add one....
TWELVE FUCKING ITEMS OR FUCKING LESS.
If I'm buying a loaf of bread and a six-pack, I should NOT have to stand behind your cottage-cheese ass while you buy 950 TV dinners, ten boxes of Godiva chocolates, and 14 2-liter bottles of Diet Coke. That's why it's the fucking "express lane."
If you see you fucked up, smile apologetically, and back out of the line, I will forgive you. I'm nice like that. But when you look up, see the sign, giggle "oops" and keep on writing your check (which, of course, you NEED YOUR LICENSE FOR, so why not leave that buried at the bottom of your battleship-sized purse full of useless trash until THE SECOND the cashier asks for it, so you can piss away nine more minutes of MY LIFE while you dig for it)... then, tubby, you die.
Thank you. I'm done now, and will be in the corner reading Justin's list until next November, if you need me.