Sunday, August 22, 2004

Why Married People Freak Me Out

So there I am, at the grocery store with the rest of humanity on a Sunday afternoon. And I've been following this guy and his four-year-old throughout the store as we both go through our shopping lists. And this guy keeps calling his wife throughout the shopping experience with all sorts of questions and worries and concerns:

"We have another problem. They don't have the type of turkey you wrote down, but they do have a smoked version...is that okay?"

"Hi, it's me again. They don't have the 64 ounze size of cranberry juice, just the 32. So should I buy two or do you want me to wait?"

And so on.

Swear to GOD I came THISCLOSE to losing it and suggesting to this guy that he hang up the phone and head to the parking lot and grow a pair and make a decision on his own about the damned cranberry juice for the love of us all. But I didn't. I just gawked at him and made him feel self conscious while he waited for advice about the turkey.

God, I'm going to die alone, aren't I?

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