Has anyone else noticed that a trek to the grocery store has turned into a major battle? It begins before you even walk in the doors--because lurking outside is an evil beyond measure that makes my heart pound with both dread and secret delight. Yep, its the Girl Scouts hocking their oh so delicious (yet thigh enlarging) cookies. Damn you Tag-along and Samoas, you tempt me so much.
If you make it past the gals in green with your soul intact (and pocketbook) then the real battle begins. Get your groceries (STICK TO THE LIST!) while weaving in and out of the other shoppers with their carts o'death. Be careful--soccer mom at six o'clock with a lethal stare who will power walk right over your ass to get to the last can of wheat germ. And as soon as you dodged that bullet grandma "getoutamyway" will clip you with her scooter if you don't move it right along.
Then once you actually find your purchases and get ready to check out you encounter the line of everlasting pain (because there is only one lane open for people buying more than condoms and bubble gum). Here you twiddle your thumbs while catching up on the it-gossip--but really, I didn't need to know that Jennifer Anniston makes her own deodorant or that Oprah is now selling her own line of tampons since she took over the earth.
And GASP--your total finally arrives and you realize you could have paid your portion of the national deficit with what you just spent on baby food and ketchup.
Finally, you leave the store only to realize you are now officially getting old because you can't remember where the hell you parked your car. There is something so horrible about watching the geriatric club moseying towards their vehicles while you have to wander the lot and occasionally hit the key less alarm in hopes that your car will pull a Kit and start talking to you. And if it did start chatting it would start with "put down the Thin Mints and get a life sister."
3 comments:
you forgot to mention the soccer mom is on her cell phone blabbing about god knows what while she pushes one of those double carts that look like cars. Peanut loves those carts but I hate them because they are GIANT!!
And when you were talking about the evil that lurks at the door, I thought you were talking about old eagle eye (the three year old) catching a glimpse of the small cart that she LOVES to push around into other people and the store displays while you try to keep one hand on your cart with your baby in it.
And all of that is assuming you make it past starbucks or as it is called at our house "the chocolate milk store". That kid has brand recognition down.
Which is why I love it when Mr. T. does the shopping.
Thank you for the laugh out loud play by play from hell! And yes, we just got back from the store tonight. Vile fluid must ooze from the cracks in the floors to create such a vortex of evil!
I still say you missed your calling when you didn't go into a career in writing!!!
Post a Comment