Disgraced by my lack of an ice scraper, I went to Walmart to buy one. I went in determined to make a bee-line for the auto aisle, grab a scraper, hit the express checkout, and be on my merry way in 10 minutes or less.
Phase 1 of that plan went beautifully. I wasn't even flummoxed by the ice scraper assortment (Skip the $0.79 cheapie. Smile at the $18.99 reinforced telescoping handle 3-footer with built-in snow brush and ice chipper that I would've seriously considered buying in Minnesota. Pick the sensible ergonomic $2.09 one.) Quick decision, and onward to Phase 2.
It was right around the moment that I arrived to the checkout area that I realized Phase 2 of the plan was doomed to failure. Why did all of the unwed babymammas of Roanoke decide they needed to do their lifetime worth of shopping at 6:42pm on a Thursday? How did they have the impeccable synchronized timing to descend on all 14 checkstands en masse in front of me? Moreover, why did they all decide it was the great social event of the evening to yell back and forth at each other from all their various checkout lines with a running commentary on every purchase they were making? "Girrrl! Did you see Pampers cost $10 now?" "Girrrrl! What you doing getting the 3-pack of onesies? They got the 5-pack on sale!" "Girrrrrrrrrrrl! Call me! I've got frozen pizzas!"
The ultimate question is probably this: Why did I stand in line for nearly 40 minutes in order to buy a $2.09 ice scraper?
Answer: Because the forecast predicted I'd need it.
And the forecast was right. I woke up to this a day or so later:
Snow. And cats baffled by snow.
Snow means it's officially the Christmas season! I decorated! I've got little twinkle lights all around the living room and dining room ceilings, plus a tree, plus a nativity, plus candles, plus a wreath on the front door. To complete the holy glow, Freaky Beady Rasta Santa is on the shelf watching over everything.
And my friend Val sent me Christmas cookies! Cute little gingerbread men. Well, one of them is cute, anyway. The other one...well...I'm not sure what's going on with that one. She must have had "help" decorating.
Ginger person running away without any pants?
Ginger David Bowie in a veil and a spandex bodysuit...oh my gosh Labyrinth scarred me for life?
My Christmas wish is to know what's going on here.
Your friend Val!? Nah ah!
ReplyDeleteThat was me baby!
And what happened to the anatomically correct Ken ginger bread man. He never made it on here.
And to grant your Christmas wish, that was a ginger bread man running away nekked.
My work here is done!
Cheers,
Yak!
So you are saying that you didn't have even one, itty-bitty urge to just casually slide that scraper into your purse and leave? Not that I am encouraging shoplifting...I am just curious.
ReplyDeleteAND! I am being confidently presumptuous, but we, as readers of your blog, deserve to see ALL of the cookies including the Ken Gingerbread Man.
-Bonnie
PS - I LOVE LOVE your tree! It is perfect!
Eeeek! Jorge! Scandal! I was afraid of that. Well...I guess at least it wasn't David Bowie.
ReplyDeleteAnd Bon, I believe out of respect for anatomically correct gingerbread persons everywhere, Ken will not appear on the blog.
Poor Sarah. If it helps, Labyrinth scarred me for life, too.
ReplyDeleteGirrrrrrl, obviously that is the front and back of one naked cookie, sandwich style.
ReplyDeleteBut if it's the front and back of one naked cookie sandwich... well, it's clothed in the front and only naked in the back... confusing. Is that like the gingerbread clothing equivalent of the mullet?
ReplyDelete