Monday, May 21, 2012

Don't worry, the spider is smaller than you. Yeah, so is a grenade.

I had a realization while at the grocery store earlier this week, and no, it wasn't that I'm too old for Fruit by the Foot, because I'm not and quite frankly I don't give a damn if I am. I'd like to see you pry the box from my hands.

I realized that I only have 2 phone numbers memorized. TWO. And then my mind went racing through all of the scenarios that any normal, sane individual would and it finally landed on this alarming scenario: If I was kidnapped and somehow able to spastically flail around and either A) injure the kidnappers B) free myself or C) injure myself and then the kidnappers feel sorry for me and let me go out of pity - and make it to a phone, I would be forced to call either my mother - which would suck because 1. She would freak out and that would make me freak out even more and then we'd cry. Or 2. She wouldn't answer. Not on purpose, but because the woman leaves her phone on silent for decades in the depths of her mom purse amidst the crayons and crackers. Honestly, we're all 13+ so crackers don't do much to calm my nerves anymore... but yes... I do want a peppermint... And then when she realizes that her phone has been blowing up, she calls back the second I set my phone down and walk out of the room. Then I miss the call by last ring (Hello? HELLO?!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What did you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?! So, there's option A. Mom and solid reasoning why this option is flawed.

Then there is the dreaded option B) An Ex Boyfriend. There are plenty of other people I'd rather call to come save me/kick ass/find my little brother Colton and have him come kick ass, but unfortunately, it's been pointed out to me that I do not have Jack Bauer, Bear Grylls or The Fonz's phone numbers. And only one of those people actually exists.

Please do not send old Kiefer Sutherland to free me, that man still scares me from his vampire days in The Lost Boys.

So, I would call the Ex and I'm sure he'd come save me and then I'd say something snarky, per usual, once we're safe and on the run. Like suggesting that he could use his ears to fly us to safety... then he'd probably threaten to take me back to the kidnappers himself. There isn't an option 2 to this scenario unless he chose to bring my brother and in that case our adventure home would probably resemble a mash up of Kangaroo Jack and Homeward Bound...

And that's what I was thinking about whilst at the grocery store in the produce section, deciding on whether or not to get raspberries or blueberries for breakfast tomorrow. I chose both.

It might just be me, but I enjoy going to the grocery store. Some how everything can be solved when I go to the grocery store. Everything that I need at that particular point in time is right there. Unless, it's midnight and you need something from the pharmacy, then you're screwed. But seriously, everything is organized with signs to guide you, it's the least stressful chore there is. That's not to say that things can't go wrong, just because you write it on a list doesn't mean that it magically jumps into the basket or makes it off the hood of your car because you left it there when putting the groceries away. I'm referring to the box of Fruit by the Foot that caught your eye and the decision to eat one before even starting the car. I'm good at making grocery lists that never actually make it to the grocery store.

Oh, and rambling about absolutely nothing of any significant value.

Make Believe by The Graduate

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