Fresh Knowledge, Get It While It's Hot
Scribing at 1:35 p.m. on 2005-03-09
Yanno, yesterday was pretty damn interesting. I learned a couple of things, and of course due to my love and respect for you all, I am here to share this newfound information with you.
No, seriously. Why are you making that face?
My delicate flower (otherwise known as The Diva .. stop snickering so loudly if you know her) looked at me earnestly yesterday evening and proposed that I accompany her to the grocery store and TarJayyyyy (apparently the way you're supposed to say it) which I thought was not a good idea at all. I reeeeeally hate grocery shopping; and it's one of the fabulous Must Be Done jobs that I traded her for another not-likable-but-Must-Be-Done chore.
But you know, I can't resist her. If she really wants me to do something, chances are good she can find a way to persuade me, regardless of my level of resistance. It's just part of that special chemistry we share. *clearing throat and moving on*
So off we went. She claims to really enjoy the times that I accompany her to the grocery store, although I cannot imagine why. The entire time we are there she feels compelled to expel thoughts such as "NoHoneyPleasePutThoseBackWhereYouFoundThemReallyYouShouldn'tPlayWithThatIDon'tThinkNO!OhMyGodDIdAnyoneSeeYouDoThat?PutThatDownPleaseHoneyISaidNO!"
This will be especially familiar to anyone who has had the great misfortune to be accompanied to any large food chain with a small child.
We pretty much survived the trip unscathed; and as we were standing at the checkout line my eyes happened to fall upon the reciept from the bottle return machine. Which, with my ninja like reflexes my mind immediately identified as the reciept from the bottle machine, which in turn with the lightning quick synopses firing thing going on led me to ask if we'd remembered the slip from the bottle return machine. Don't be daunted by the fact that I just saw it lying there; it certainly didn't have that effect on ME.
After copping to my idiocy (I am nothing if not responsible for my own special brand of .. uh .. lightning quick synopses) I turned after hearing a husky male voice say "Here you go, you can hit him with this". Beside the Diva stood a Kinda Big Guy, with a Tall = Wide equation going on. He was holding one of the little chains they use to close off the checkout aisles, and offering it to the Diva; ostensibly to use as some sort of makeshift flagellation tool. Perhaps my obvious level of mental acuity forced him to look upon me as some X Men type of brilliant Mutant Guy or something, and he wanted a front row seat to seeing my powers in shackles. You never know about these guys.
He then made a random suggestion that included me running home quickly, and barracading the door against the onslaught of chain whipping coming my way, and he, he generously offered, would 'Drive her home'.
I am relatively certain one of my eyes went squinty at the generous offer to Drive My Wife Home.
We will not dwell on the fact that not only did he stand beside her during the rest of the checkout procedure; but also yet again not only offered to drive her home, but volunteered that he 'Got off at one o'clock.'
*Ahem
I am thinking we will meet again, this gentleman and I. Until such time, the Diva will not be allowed to go shopping by herself. For her own personal protection, of course, you understand.
I'm pretty sure she paid him, so now I will have to go grocery shopping with her every damn time. Bah.
One of our aquisitions while there was a *gasp* Frozen Deep Dish Pizza.
This thing, literally, was from God. You will never hear me say frozen food is from anywhere other than, say, Indiana, but this pizza and I .. we got along.
It did distress me, however, to note as I was opening the box and liberating the frozen pizza, which was at that point roughly the consistency of a block of cement, that the very first thing printed on the box was 'DO NOT EAT WITHOUT COOKING.'
I held the two pound frozen concrete behemoth in my hands and understood intrinsically that you could literally beat someone to death with this chunk of cement; and if you were physically *capable* of eating this thing without cooking it first, you should bloody well be able to do it if you so chose.
Ok, it also crossed my mind to have one of these babies in the cart the next time I met up with Mr. I Will Drive Your Wife Home.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
