Posted by: bourbonmama | 15/06/2009

Piece of Meat

I got hit on in the meat department today.  Ground beef in one hand, pushing the cart with the other, grocery list and pencil in my mouth, mumbling to myself Nate.  “Wow, looks like you’ve got your hands and your mouth full!”  He says.

“mm-hmm,” I say without much thought as I reach for a plastic bag so beef juice doesn’t end up on the cereal boxes.  He looks at Nate, “Handsome boy you got there.” 

“Say ‘thank you,'” I say mostly to Nate, and move on down to the pork chops.  Completely oblivious that this guy is vying for my attention.

He passes us once more.  “That’s a great shirt,” he points to Nate, “and true,” as he pushes his cart by me.  I look at Nate’s shirt, it says, “My mom is hot.”   Oh, that’s what’s happening here.  Really, he’s hitting on me at the grocery store?  I thought that only happened on sitcoms.  With my toddler in the cart?  He’s older, too, around mid-forties, I’m guessing.  Why would you try to pick up a young mother?  Aren’t we notorious gold-diggers and replacement daddy seekers?  And then I remembered this post, and I chuckled a little while reaching for the frozen broccoli.

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Responses

  1. Hysterical!

    • Yes, it was.

  2. Now see, I would always get paranoid about perhaps he’s a perv who is trying get his hands on little Nate.

    • Totally didn’t think of that, now I’m paranoid, too.


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