SINGLES NIGHT AT THE GROCERY STORE
Earlier, my cousin bemoaned the fact on Facebook that she needed to go to the grocery store tonight, but that she really didn't feel like it.
Oh I jumped on that one (says the girl that was in her pajamas by 6:00 p.m. and a total computer couch potato soon there after) with both feet, informing my single cousin that she needed to go tonight as Friday nights are when all the single men go shopping.
And it's true! I go shopping plenty of Friday nights -- I started that little tradition after I spent one too many Saturday mornings in the grocery with a.) all the moms and their screaming kids AND b.) all the moms that have left their screaming kids at home and are seeking refuge at their local Walmart for the next 15 hours, if they can stop their husbands from calling them every other second.
My theory is that if you can shop when it is almost deserted, Kroger becomes a middle heaven, of sorts.
But it was only after I decided to save my sanity that I realized that me and pretty much A LOT of single man were shopping there as well (and I've tested this theory out in two states, ladies and gentlemen, and it has played out well in both states). Well, that was a happy little accident that I was willing to live with, let me just tell you.
Of course, my mother and I begin a conversation on Facebook, and she's eager to know why her single daughter is doling out single male advice to her single niece, whilst her aforementioned single daughter is sitting on her butt at home ... in her pajamas.
Two words for my mother VALENTINES PARTY.
This, of course, launched me into a "I don't have a list, mom, and I can't go to the store without a list because you and I both know how ugly that will turn out. I end up buying things like bulk gallon jugs of virgin olive oil and Tucks medicated wipes ... none of which I will ever need."
But my mother has an answer for everything, that one does. And her answer to this particular dilemma was, "Just push the cart around. You don't actually have to buy something."
"Yes, but mother, an empty cart in the middle of Kroger will draw some suspicious glances, and then I'll end up being like that guy in the college library when I was undergrad ... the one that carried books around but never open them and was later arrested for fondling college co-eds with his feet."
"Okay, okay!" See I can even hear her frustrated motherly tone over Facebook waves. "Okay, so you stick a thing of butter in your cart. That always looks good."
"How does that look good? What about chocolate milk and tampons? Does that look good?"
"Chocolate milk, yes. Tampons, a definite no."
And there you have it, folks. Singles Night at the local grocery store. Kid tested. Mother approved.
Oh I jumped on that one (says the girl that was in her pajamas by 6:00 p.m. and a total computer couch potato soon there after) with both feet, informing my single cousin that she needed to go tonight as Friday nights are when all the single men go shopping.
And it's true! I go shopping plenty of Friday nights -- I started that little tradition after I spent one too many Saturday mornings in the grocery with a.) all the moms and their screaming kids AND b.) all the moms that have left their screaming kids at home and are seeking refuge at their local Walmart for the next 15 hours, if they can stop their husbands from calling them every other second.
My theory is that if you can shop when it is almost deserted, Kroger becomes a middle heaven, of sorts.
But it was only after I decided to save my sanity that I realized that me and pretty much A LOT of single man were shopping there as well (and I've tested this theory out in two states, ladies and gentlemen, and it has played out well in both states). Well, that was a happy little accident that I was willing to live with, let me just tell you.
Of course, my mother and I begin a conversation on Facebook, and she's eager to know why her single daughter is doling out single male advice to her single niece, whilst her aforementioned single daughter is sitting on her butt at home ... in her pajamas.
Two words for my mother VALENTINES PARTY.
This, of course, launched me into a "I don't have a list, mom, and I can't go to the store without a list because you and I both know how ugly that will turn out. I end up buying things like bulk gallon jugs of virgin olive oil and Tucks medicated wipes ... none of which I will ever need."
But my mother has an answer for everything, that one does. And her answer to this particular dilemma was, "Just push the cart around. You don't actually have to buy something."
"Yes, but mother, an empty cart in the middle of Kroger will draw some suspicious glances, and then I'll end up being like that guy in the college library when I was undergrad ... the one that carried books around but never open them and was later arrested for fondling college co-eds with his feet."
"Okay, okay!" See I can even hear her frustrated motherly tone over Facebook waves. "Okay, so you stick a thing of butter in your cart. That always looks good."
"How does that look good? What about chocolate milk and tampons? Does that look good?"
"Chocolate milk, yes. Tampons, a definite no."
And there you have it, folks. Singles Night at the local grocery store. Kid tested. Mother approved.
Comments
Welcome to my life!