the veiled sibyl

I have heard and said more inanities, since you took me in tow, than in all the rest of my life.

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like a dripping faucet

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Choke on This!

More Tales from the Grocery Cart! No fur coats or Prada-wearing meat thieves this time. . .

This weekend, I saw a woman pawing through a basket of parmigiano reggiano, taking out maybe 30 blocks of cheese until she found just the right one. She exclaimed, "Ahhh, this one is perfect!" as she carefully examined her Chosen Cheese.

Moments later, the maitre du fromage, which is a fancy way to say "cheese guy", came up to me and offered me a taste of some horrifically white, soft and dairy-scented mass on a plate. By the expression on his face, I must have looked at him as if he'd just asked me if I'd like a bite of fresh dog shit. . . (I haven't been able to handle cheese since "The Banquet Incident" in Dallas.)

While scanning my groceries, the checker-guy asked me if I had any big plans for Mother's Day. I said no, and he looked taken aback and said, "What? Why not?" I thought about it and quickly said, "Oh, I don't have kids." He had to push it of course, and said, "But are you doing anything for your Mom?" What to say, what to say. . .

(For the record, I decided to forego my usual, "Oh, she's dead" instead simply said, "No", and asked him his plans. Quite nice of me, don't you think?)



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