Monday, May 31, 2010

A passionate conversation.

I was on my way to the grocery store this evening when the weather started to take a turn for the worse. The sky looked awful and we were already starting to get thunder and lightening - I really started to wonder if we might be under some sort of tornado watch. I was near my mom's house and, since she doesn't like to be home alone during storms, I decided to swing by her house and watch some television with her until the storm blew through.

As I was driving to her house, I stopped at a corner gas station to get some treats for her. You see, one long-standing tradition in our family is making a "crap run" when a storm is coming. What is a "crap run," you ask? Well, we go to the store and load up on all the junk food (i.e. "crap") we want and then we get to eat whatever we want during the storm. It's one of the many healthy habits we have in our family. So I thought it would be fun if I surprised my mom with a mini crap run for our little storm. I know - I'm pretty amazing.

ANYWAY . . . as I walked into the store, the cashier was standing outside talking to some of her friends. That was fine with me because I had some looking around to do - a proper crap run cannot be rushed, my friends. So I browsed the ice cream cooler and then walked over to the register to set my stuff down so that I could go look at the Hostess section, too. The cashier walked in and over to the register at that point. And then we had this conversation as I looked around and she rang up my stuff:

Cashier: How are you doing tonight?
Me: I'm good! How are you doing?
Cashier: Oh - I'm just getting adjusted to a new role as a hostess.
Me: [Oh boy. This is not the quick exchange of pleasantries I was hoping for . . .] Oh, really? [She's fishing, Catherine. Don't bite. Don't . . .] What kind of hostess? [Dangit, Catherine.]
Cashier: For Passion Parties.
Me: [Ah sh--] Oh, really?
Cashier: Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaah. I'm trying to get people to buy raffle tickets.
Me: Oh, really?
Cashier: Yeah - you can really win some good prizes.
Me: [At the risk of sounding repetitive . . .] Oh, really?
Cashier: Yeah. Have you been to a Passion Party?
Me: No, I sure haven't.
[Awkward pause. Resist filling the space with a question, Catherine. Resist. I know you can do it. I know you can . . .]
Me: It's like . . . ummmmm . . . toys . . . right? [DANGIT, CATHERINE!!!! YOU STUPID . . .]
Cashier: Yeah. Sex toys, lotions, and oils.
Me: Oh . . . [CRAP.]
Cashier: I've got some catalogs in the back if you'd like--
Me: NO NO. [Easy, Catherine. Be cool. Be cool.] No, thank you. That's okay.
Cashier: It's not all sex toys . . .
Me: [Wow. Never thought I'd hear THAT sentence in a conversation . . .] Mmmmm hmmmm . . .
Cashier: We also have pheromones that you put on like behind your ear.
Me: [Just ring up my ice cream sandwiches before I drop down into the fetal position, please.] Mmmmmm hmmmmm . . .
Cashier: And if you work with guys, they just can't hardly resist it.
Me: [Please, God - please let someone come in to rob this store right now . . .] Mmmmmm hmmmmm . . .
Cashier: And if you work with women, it works on them, too. It makes them more nicer to you even if they was in a bad mood.
Me: [My passion is grammar, lady. And you're obviously not selling that . . .] Oh, really?
Cashier: Yeah. And [drops her voice and looks around like she's about to tell me something VERY private . . .] they've got this shaving gel . . .
Me: [Oh, Lord, no . . . please. Please. I'm not ready to hear this.]
Cashier: And I shaved my legs with it and [drops her voice even lower] and a week later . . . I still didn't have to shave again.
Me: [Whoa - hold up. Did she just say no shaving for a week? What is this miracle product??]

Somehow I got out of there without booking a party or taking a catalog. But I honestly don't remember how I managed that. I really don't even remember much of the rest of our conversation because I was too busy picturing myself at a Passion Party, standing there with my bottle of miracle shaving gel and staring at it happily, oblivious to all the people examining various sex toys on display. How can I live without that shaving gel now that I know it exists??

Well, better get to bed. I have to get up an extra 10 minutes early in the morning so that I can shave my legs before I leave.

[Sigh . . .]

5 comments:

Emma said...

No WAY!! I can't believe the things you get into....Hysterical!!!

Sheri said...

The mental picture is so, soooo, sooo, good. Oh to have been a fly on that wall!

Anonymous said...

Umm,... what's the address of that station? you know, in case I need some gas....

Diana said...

My hand is over my mouth as I read this and am hunkering down in my chair praying that no one behind me is reading this blog with me! I hate that I just wrote the word hunkering. I am embarrassed just to read the words "sex toys". How do these things happen to you? Oh, and by the way I am cracking up at how many times you can say "crap run" in one story. When we say crap run in my family, junk food is not exactly what we are discussing.

Tam said...

I don't even comprehend how you find yourself in these situations. I would love to just be your side kick for a week and see what all you get into. Honestly you're used to all this craziness so maybe you're forgetting wild things that happen to you!? Whenever you're ready to take me up on the side kick gig, I'll be ready:)