Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Mexican Safeway was just bizarre tonight. I told Moby that I hoped to see blonde, furry, beefy Byron when I went. And sure enough, there he was in his blonde, furry, beefy self. He flirted way more than usual with me. Except he never really flirts with me and is totally straight, so straight he has difficulty tying his shoelaces.

Moving right along, there was the tall, skinny cowboy-like man with the ornate pistol stuck down his pants over his right buttock. Why anybody feels the need to strut around with a gun in between their panties and their Wrangler jeans is not something I understand clearly. Are they afraid onion robbers and eggplant terrorists are going to ambush the produce section?

Well the only terrorist was the three-year-old boy who knocked over the sponge cake display and looked like he was supposed to cry until he saw me laughing. Then he smiled slyly.

Ohmigod, what was up with the Mexican hottie guys tonight? Three, count 'em, three Mexican hottie guys. The one with the muscled arms and the lovely skin was my favorite.

Leaving Mexican Safeway it was raining, the first real rain since October. That's something like eight months ago. I didn't mind the raindrops landing on the Cheerios boxes or my gallon of two percent milk. It was a nice way to end an adventure.

Newer›  ‹Older

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

comments powered by Disqus