Phone conversation with my betrothed in which he tells me how he is a supermarket hero and uses my new favorite phrase:
MB: So, I have two new rules. One is that I never believe you again and the other is that I never, ever come to this crappy grocery store again.
Me: Uh huh. I kind of support the second rule because I have experienced that crapstaticness of that store, but why shouldn't you believe me about things? I'm a very trustworthy person.
MB: Except that apparently you don't know how to count sticks of butter. How do you 'miscalculate' how much butter is in the house.
Me: Oh, you got my text. See, I saw the box and just assumed it was full, meaning that we did not need butter. Then when I actually went to pull a stick out, I saw that we do in fact need butter. Especially since I'm doubling the baked pineapple recipe because we are fatsos who love baked pineapple. A lot. So, we need butter, was the point of my text.
MB: Uh huh. Well, I can't shop here. They sell crappy products and there's too many white trash scumbags who don't know how to get out of the way. And I already had to yell at a little old lady. If I stay here, I may kill someone.
Me: Why did you yell at a little old lady? What could she possibly have done?
MB: There was this little old lady crossing the street into the store with her little cart, in the rain and some old lady in her car almost ran her over. So, I had no choice but to walk right in front of the bitch, making her stop.
Me: So, where does the yelling come into it?
MB: I yelled at her: "Hey, don't you see this little old lady crossing the street. Stop your fucking car!" I think I did her a service. I'm like a boy scout.
Me: Uh huh. So, was the cart lady appreciative or just frightened of the big angry scary man dropping f bombs?
MB: She said 'thank you'. Jackass. I may have saved her life.
Me: Uh huh. This is exactly why you should do the grocery shopping from now on. Your heroics are needed.
MB: I can't limit myself. Superman never stayed in one spot.
Me: Uh huh. You're lucky that car bitch didn't run you over, Superman.
MB: She did try to take my spot when I left. Pulling up like she was the cat's ass, thinking she was getting rock star parking. Then she saw me. And she knew.
So, I'm going to acme now. At least there's hot college chicks there.
Me: Nice. And I was just fantasizing about you in Superman tights, doing good deeds around the house. Laundry. Scrubbing the toilet. Picking up socks. So hot.
MB: Never gonna happen.
And so our Thanksgiving Eve commences, full of romance and devotion. And homicidal rage on behalf of little old ladies.
And I am so using 'cat's ass' every chance I get. Awesome.
And for anyone who's dying to know - the turkey made it safely into the cooler without projectiling into anything. Yet.