Monday, November 30, 2009
The Trouble with Shopping
It can be extremely difficult for a distractible man to focus on purchasing slippers for his wife at the department store, when the slipper department is next to the brassiere department.
I was looking right at the slippers but on the next rack were some bra’s (Ha! Rack. Bra’s…well, see, there I go again). They were nice. The bra’s. I mean the slippers. See the trouble here?
My thoughts while shopping went something like this:
“Well there’s a nice pair. I wonder what the material feels like. Ooh, soft. Nice. She’ll like that. And they’ve got some rubber reinforcement underneath too – that will help when she’s running around chasing the kids.”
“The tips might be a bit pointy - I know she likes a more rounded look - but she can always exchange, I guess. Easy to slip on and off quickly it would appear – that’s good.”
“I’m just not sure of the size. These look about right but I’m just not sure any more. She’s getting back into running and that can affect things as well. I’d hate to see her hanging out the sides. Plus if they don’t fit properly they can cause some back strain.”
I turned to the woman next to me for assistance.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but you look like you’re about the size of my wife – can I compare yours to my wife’s and see if they fit?”
It was at that point I realized I was holding a brassiere and not a pair of slippers. My mind had wandered as usual, and the bra I was holding was for a serious pair of, well, 'gazongas' is the word that springs to mind. I honestly do not remember picking that one up.
My face was still red from the slap, and here I was in the local jail, awaiting charges of Attempted Perversion Upon a Nun.
“I honestly didn’t realize I had wandered over to the other rack, your Honour. Ha-ha – rack, yeah. I laughed too, your Honour.”
“No sir, I don’t recall asking her to "rub them together to see if they generate static electricity". I was probably thinking of the slippers, sir.”
“Yes, sir, it is a first offense and a fine would be most appropriate in this circumstance, and I thank you for no criminal record, sir.”
“Well, Your Honour, I think I’d rather spend some time in jail, but if you think releasing me into my wife’s custody will be best for me then I guess I’ll obey your wishes, although if I had retained a lawyer I’m sure he would be saying that is cruel and unusual punishment right about now.”
“Yes sir, I realize my ear will bend back eventually. Thank you, sir, and I hope you find the tennis balls for your wife without too much trouble. You might want to be careful though, sir, the sporting goods are right next to the swimsuit racks.”
“Yes, us guys have to stick together – I agree. You’re welcome, Your Honour. Merry Christmas to you too, sir.”
Labels:
brain damage,
humor writing,
shopping,
slippers
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1 comment:
That is hilarious. The ironic thing is I know my wife's bra size and have bought several "foundations" over the years for her. Just last week, I had to ASK my wife her shoe size.
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