Rizzle

My last hour of work was spent dreaming of a highly anticipated stroll through Staples later that evening. I have this thing for office supplies, you see.

The trip started great with front row parking right at the entrance of Staples. The automatic sliding doors swished open and I walked in ready to peruse and debate over whether I really need neon colored paperclips.

It was obvious I had come during an awful time for Staples. The bin of No.2 pencils were shouting to second graders, “buy me, buy me!” Backpacks and lunch boxes were strewn across the floor to my right. A flustered Staples associate was 12 feet high on a ladder pulling down boxes of 1 inch three ring binders to replenish the supply that was demolished by the local middle school earlier that day.

I headed to the aisle with the paper cutters because that was my main purpose of tonight’s excursion. Only I was blocked by a lady with a giant butt and a giant cart as if the place was her own. She was probably a teacher, definitely not a PE teacher though. I waited patiently for Miss Big Butt to clear the way, and then I picked up a paper cutter and decided I was in the market for a new metallic, gel pen.

The pen and pencil aisle felt like what a monkey cage at the zoo would be like. Two, wild kids with balloons tied to a string were batting at their latex, helium prize. One of the little jerks even hit me in the head. As I glared at him with the look of death he said, “Sorry” and continued his monkey business. A haggard looking mother was trying to understand what brand of erasable pens to buy her high school daughter. It was apparent there was no room for casual shopping at Staples tonight. These Back to School shoppers are another breed. Then I began to question if I would like to have children one day. But that is a post for another time.

Did you have to brave through any Back to School shoppers? Or *gasp* did you have to Back to School shop for your young ones?

Rizzle

Saturday morning was filled with errands. The first stop was a pedicure at Fancy Nail not Fancy Nails, Fancy Nail, singular, not plural. Then to the cleaners to drop off three of Kat Daddy’s shirts because we’re too lazy to wash and iron them ourselves. Next I happily gave Blockbuster back their copy of the movie Fast and the Furious III. FYI – do not rent this movie unless you’re a 10 year old boy, into fast cars and cheesy action. Yes, I guess I am marrying a 10 year old boy that’s into fast cars and cheesy action. I’ll bring this up during our next pre-marital therapy session. We don’t actually go to pre marital therapy, but now that I realize I’m marrying a child I will make an appointment after I post this blog.

After I hurled the DVD case into Blockbuster’s metal, return shoot, I hopped back in the car to proceed to the Post Office. On the way I passed a bus stop. At this bus stop was an older woman, maybe in her 60s or perhaps only in her 40s to have been aged to look 60 after being homeless and in the sun for countless hours with no sunscreen. She may also have a drinking problem or perhaps she’s just schizophrenic. I’m no doctor, but clearly she was yelling at someone or something in sign language and she looked mad. As she threw her signs in the air her face held an angry scowl.

Then as if that were not scary enough, there was a man slumped down on the side of a liquor store across the street from the Post Office. He had clearly partied himself into oblivion. It was 10 AM and the fool was still drunk and incoherent.

Shuddering, I flung my letters and package into the mailbox. As I drove away, I was happy to see my tax dollars hard at work. The fire department and an ambulance were here to get this disaster off the safe, clean, friendly streets of town. Driving a little further, I noticed the deaf schizophrenic had also been picked up by the bus.

I wonder what I’ll see next time I run errands around town?

-Rizzle

After spending 45 minutes on the floor at the local library thumbing through cookbooks, I wiped the saliva dripping from my face with the “all about chocolate” book I was admiring. Then I closed the book and realized I have not met my ice cream quota for this summer. A measly three cones from McDonald’s all summer long?! Noooooooooo. That couldn’t be. But it’s true. I scoured my bank statements and only saw three debits in the amount of $1.09. Just the amount of one cone. Then there was the vanilla ice cream that accompanied apple crisp earlier this summer. Oh, and that one time a few weeks ago when we had brownies with yet more vanilla ice cream. Still, this is not even close to my ice cream quota. The ice cream gods must be very disappointed with me.

Have no fear, ice cream gods! Haagen Dazs is here!

If you’re a banana split fan, try this. Then tell me what you think.

This is the Chocolate Peanut Butter. I’m not a gigantic fan of chocolate ice cream or peanut butter so this one was just OK for me. But try it. I dare you.

My sister must not have the same quota rules as me. She’s reading a diet book while eating ice cream! The very first chapter said, “sugar is the devil”.
Blasphemy I say!

I order her to promptly return that book to the library tomorrow. Cuz we’ve got ice cream to eat. No skinny bitches here.

Meeting my quota one pint at a time.

-Rizzle