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Posts Tagged ‘Market Basket’

In the check-out line at my local Market Basket.    My bagger today isn’t Jesus, but instead a woman.  Let’s call her Sally.

Sally (eyeing my purchase of Diego Swimmy Diapers):  How old’s your little one?

Me:  He’s two.

Sally (who looks no older than 25):  Ah.  Mine are 6, 10 and 12.

Me:   Hmm.  Goes fast, I bet.

A few beats of silence.

Sally (eyes my Johnson’s Baby Bath Oil):  You want to be really careful using this stuff with your two-year old, though.

Me (Alarmed.  Was there a recall?  Is it hazardous if swallowed?):  Oh, really!?  How come?

Sally:  It’s just not very good protection for the little ones.  They could get a really bad sunburn.

Good Lord, woman.  I’m not using it as sunblock on my baby!

Me:  Oh.  K.  Well, thanks.

Where’s Jesus when you need him?

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Sometime in the beginning of January, I bought a little bit of garlic.  A medium-sized plastic tin full of pre-peeled cloves.  Very practical, I thought to myself as I loaded them into that week’s grocery cart.   Well done.   And, for just $1.44?  A steal, no doubt.  Yay, me.  Ever the thrifty one, yup, that’s me.

Husband arrived home that night and noticed my new purchase in the refrigerator.

Wow. He calls out to me, as I sit in the adjoining room.  That’s a LOT of garlic!

Truly surprised that a) he would even notice but also that b) he thought it too much, I answered,

Well, not really.  I cook with garlic all the time!  I’m sure I’ll get right through it.  You just don’t know how much I actually need garlic.  You’ll see.

Alright. But, I can just tell in his voice that he doubts me.  That he thinks I’m being wasteful…again.

I’ll show him, I thought to myself.   I will.

So, today (two months later), when I went to make a baked ziti and reached for a little garlic powder before I remembered that…oh, yeeeeah.  I’ve got that real garlic somewhere in here and…

Sigh.  Oh, go ahead.  Mark the date and time.  I hereby admit, he was right.

Nuts.  Hate when that happens.

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Dear So and So...
Dear Market Basket Store Manager,
I want to keep coming back, really I do.  Your prices are far better than my local stores and even somewhat better than your chain competitors.  It’s worth it financially for me.  But, man oh man.  It’s a rough trip.  And, I’m all for exposing my children to the filth diversity of your plentiful clientele, but not willing to expose them to scurvy.   Where are the Handi-Wipes?  And the mouth masks?   It frightens me.  Really.
In Cleanliness,
Swooper
_____
Dear Dog,
You know we love you, right?  Hate your hair.  Hate it.  Hate it on my wood floors, hate it on my black clothes, really hate it on my bed.  I know we let you sleep there for six years but it was a lot cuter when you were 10 lbs than it is now that you’re 80 lbs and shedding.  Get off.  You have your own bed.  Use it.   There’s a pound around the corner and, I promise you, their cold, dank floors are not as comfy as your Orvis bed.
Sincerely,
The One Who Feeds You
_____
Dear Husbands,
Big, heavy bags left at the bottom of staircases mean “pick me up and deliver me to where I belong.”
Sincerely,
The One Who Feeds The Dog Who Is Quickly Running Out of His Kibbles & Bits
_____
Dear DJ Lance Rock,
Your show is weird.  Just plain weird.  You’re the Telletubbies of my kids generation.  I don’t get it.  Kids love you.  Grown-ups?  Not so much.  And, don’t let the Brad Pitt thing go to your head.  He dresses like a homeless person most of the time so your orange jumpsuit was an upgrade.   As soon as I can get my hands on the DVR remote, your days are numbered.
“Yooooooo!  It’s Almost Time To Go!”,
Swooper
_____
Dear Libido,
OK.  Kids sleeping through the night.  Lost some weight.  Settled into my new home.  Come on back, old friend.  Welcome.
I’ll Leave the Door Unlocked,
Swooper
_____
Dear Oil of Olay,
I’ve been using you every day since I was 14.  So, if you’re not helping me look younger too and I’m a wrinkled old raisin at 60, I’m coming after you.   And, $4.59 once every two months for 46 years ain’t gonna be cheap.   Just sayin’.
With the Better Business Bureau On My Speed Dial,
Swooper

_____

Dear Evan Lysacek,
Saw an interview with you yesterday in which you explained how you aren’t like all the other male skaters.  That you are, in fact, quite masculine (gasp).   Here’s a tidbit from your interview:


“I think I’m bringing an element of style and showing that this is my idea of what a modern man should dress like and look like,” Lysacek explains. “It can still be stylish, but [also] be masculine at the same time.”


Here’s what you wore last night for the Short Program.

Are those curly q’s on your shoulder blades?  Feathers on your fists?


Uh huh.

Thanks for the laugh,
Swooper

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