Today was one of the rare days where I had someone to watch the kidlets so that I could go to the store without someone trying to scratch my eyes out (Alex), scream their head off (Amelia) or pout when I won’t throw some cash down for Spiderman Froot Snaks (Me).
First stop was the pharmacy to both make sure that I won’t have any more babies and undo some of the damage my previous two pregnancies have done to my husband’s cholesterol. And while I was at it, I figured I’d pick up a heating pad for my sad, sad back. I’m gonna horde the SHIT out of that Vicodin.
This is what I came across:
It has both the words “deluxe” and “auto-shut off” on the front. Since I have a habit of starting random fires by complete accident and because my brain has turned into swiss cheese, I require appliances that will shut the fuck OFF when I leave them on.
And who doesn’t like DELUXE stuff. If it SAYS it, it must be. Packaging NEVER lies.
How could I go wrong? But wait a galdarn second here…What the…
DUDE. DUDE. DUDE.
*wipes tears from eyes*
Look at the look on that guys face!
Doesn’t he look like he’s enjoying that heating pad A LITTLE TOO MUCH? He looks like he’s about to make sweet, sweet love to it.
Then I ran back and forth along the aisles looking like a complete nutter as I’d forget, then remember, then forget again things that I needed. What? I never claimed to be smart.
So then, after making a brief detour to get some sympathy cards (you know you’ve bought too many sympathy cards when you can actually tell when new stock has come in), I continued to my final stop: The book section.
See, my friend Marinka is doing some kind of reading of Ulysses or something. She’s trying to better myself and well, I’m just here. I tried to read Ulysses for about 5 minutes while I was going through an I’m Deep phase and it made almost no sense to me. And since these days, People Magazine is starting to make no sense to me, I’m thinking that Ulysses might be a stretch.
But no worries, I will flex my literary muscle in OTHER ways. I’ll show HER.
Like with this!
There are a bunch of words in the title, right? And they don’t make much sense either, right? (also, the blurriness was because an employee was watching me crack up at the romance novels and I was trying to be all stealthy)
But then…I was overtaken by THIS:
I simply couldn’t go wrong. This book is sure to be full of “throbbing manhoods” and “oiled pistons.”
I can hardly wait.
I’ll show Marinka whose all literary and shit! Aunt Becky. That’s who.