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Desperate Working Mommas
Your one-stop site for fanatical television snarking, questionable political analysis, occasional attempts to address the parenting issues facing working mothers, and halfhearted promises to stop obsessing about the entertainment industry, already! Oh, not to mention the random bitching and moaning. There's always that.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Epiphany in the Produce Aisle

Last evening I came to a startling and not altogether happy realization. A realization that rocked me to the core. A realization that struck at the very essence of my young(ish) womanly being. A realization that forced me to question the efficaciousness of my God-given feminine wiles. A realization that sent home the message: "Use it or lose it, baby."

Allow me to elucidate:

Last night TGIM and I made a run for the grocery store, in dire need of potatoes. You know, because baked potatoes are tasty? And as the in-laws are visiting we're thinking, "Huh. We better make some tasty food." Because that is what good hosts do. Even when our guests have commandeered my very own bedroom and are sleeping in my very own bed with my very own super comfy down blanket and I have to sleep on the couch because I can't sleep on the futon in the kids room because, duh, I wake up at 4:16 a.m. (I like evens, okay?!) and how rude to be all, "La la la! I'll just set my alarm for 4:16 a.m. and wake everybody up at that God-forsaken hour just because I am too selfish to go downstairs and sleep on the couch when there is a super comfy futon bed upstairs." Right?

But I digress.

So, we (TGIM and I? Sheesh, keep up!) approached the potatoes and TGIM's all, "Cat, help me find small ones," and I go, "Ooooh! Sweet potatoes!" because I love sweet potatoes and there they were, right next to the Russet potatoes and at that very moment I suddenly craved a baked sweet potato-- with loads of butter... and salt and pepper-- so bad it hurt. Hurt so good. And TGIM's all, "Cat?" so I impatiently waved him over to the already bagged potatoes, as everyone knows they are always WAY smaller than the loose ones, GOSH. So TGIM wanders away and I'm feeling up every darn sweet potato in the bin because that's how you find the tasty ones, and suddenly this cute, young guy approaches me.

Yes. A cute, young guy! Approached me!

So there I am just feeling up those sweet potatoes like nobody's business, when this guy gets right up next to me and starts feeling up the sweet potatoes, too. Feeling up my potatoes!

So I'm thinking to myself, The bastard! He is totally trying to filch all the best sweet potatoes! And being the competitive person I am, I renew my search in earnest because no friggin' way am I letting him pilfer my potatoes. Man. You should have seen me in action. I was a potato-picking maniac, rummaging like the dickens, throwing potatoes hither and thither... I must say I can be extraordinarily thorough when the chips are down... (Get it? Chips? Because... potatoes? Whatever, moving on...)

"Mmm. Sweet potatoes," he says, picking up one I had just discarded (too big).

So I mumble something like, "I know, right?" because I had just found the best little sweet potato ever and I was busy grabbing a bag in which to put it before I accidentally dropped it back into the bin or some such disaster and this guy freaking snaked it.

"I mean, how do you know which ones are good?" he asks me, holding up an extra large sweet potato.

Feeling gracious, as I had already bagged two more perfect specimens and was now finished with my sweet potato shopping, I reveal my secret: "They're fat, smooth, and smallish." I am proud to tell you I even spotted a good one and handed it over to him. This is called sharing.

He drops the mammoth potato he is holding, takes the one I hand him, and begins rummaging the pile again. "Sooooo, short and fat?" he asks, looking up at me, and I finally notice that this guy? Well, he's kind of cute. I shall forevermore call him Cute Guy. Note it.

I am embarrassed to admit that I chose this moment to revert to my twelve-year-old self. Short and thick does the trick! I thought, my inner twelve-year-old giggling like mad. It's not the size of the boat, but the motion of the ocean!

It is a personal testament to my growing maturity that I had the presence of mind to keep this amusing gem of an inner monologue to myself, as my filter doesn't always work, if you know what I'm saying. Unfortunately my face betrayed me, as I blushed deeply and fought a losing battle with the huge grin threatening to make an appearance. And damned if I didn't feel a giggle fit coming on, too. Because It's not the size of the boat, but the motion of the ocean? That's comic gold.

Realizing that if I continued to repress, the modicum of self-control I was employing would likely burst like a dam and all that twelve-year-old hilarity would just tumble out all over this poor guy, who, after all, was just trying to buy a sweet potato. So I look around for TGIM, knowing he'd appreciate my witticisms, but he's nowhere to be found. Then I catch a glimpse of him slinking over to the fruit section, casting furtive glances my way. Of course, I'm like, What is his damage?

Cute Guy smiles and says something else to me, but I don't really hear him as I am too busy trying to figure out why TGIM is suddenly playing Dr. Watson to my Sherlock in the produce section of the supermarket. I flash a grin at Cute Guy before I take off after TGIM. This is called manners.

"Why did you ditch me?" I ask after finally chasing TGIM down in the melon section. I don't know why I remember that we were amongst melons, I just do. I'm weird that way. Work with me.

TGIM just looks at me with his trademark huge, fabulously cheesy grin. "That guy was totally flirting with you!" Shrug. "I wanted to see how it played out."

"He was NOT flirting with me."

"Oh, yes he was."

"No, he wasn't. See, he wanted to know how to pick a good sweet potato and I'm like-- seriously, TGIM, this is super funny, listen--"

"Cat, the dude didn't care about the potatoes. He was flirting with you."

"Wait, what? He was?" I think about it for a minute. "Naaaaaah... really? You think?"


I have to admit, at this moment I'm feeling a little puffed up in my own esteem. Cute Guy was flirting with me. The only people who ever (used to) flirt with me were the 17- and 18-year-old high school senior boys I used to teach, and that was always awkward and completely one-sided. Not to mention squicky to the tenth, yo? (And to squelch the subsequent jokes let me clarify that this flirting was always awkward for me and completely one-sided on their part. I can't help it that I look deceptively young! And I didn't even know what MILF meant at the time! Hand to God! Which is a good thing or I may have been held liable for kicking some perverted teenaged ass.)

Then it hits me. "O!M!G! Do you know what this means?" Off his I Never Know What The Hell You're Talking About EVER So Please Just Tell Me look, I do just that. "It means my radar is broken! Or at least badly damaged... Dude I'm, like, radar-challenged!... Whoa. What if guys have been flirting with me for years and I haven't even NOTICED?"

"Um, GOOD?"

We laughed. And then I shared the conversation I had with Cute Guy and my subsequent descent into bad, dirty thoughts. Because I'm a bad, dirty girl. Just bad all around. And dirty. Seriously, my mind is in the gutter, I tell you what. And then we laughed even harder. Because TGIM gets me.

But later I came to the unpleasant realization that as a result of my rusty radar, I had been missing out on my God-given right as a young(ish) woman to exercise my feminine wiles in a flirting situation. What if guys have been flirting with me for years and I just didn't know it? I know, right?! I mean, how am I supposed to accurately assess my self-worth if I don't even know that Cute Guys of the world are flirting with me? Oh! Woe! The opportunities missed!

Then again, if Kelly is to be believed, I don't suppose I've missed out on much. I guess I will just have to let it go. But I am currently boning up on flirtatious witticisms that are appropriate to share with members of the opposite sex who may or may not be flirting, so I will be prepared next time. Smart, right? Eh?

Heh. I said "boning."

link | posted by Cat at 7:35 AM

Blogger Trop commented:

OMG. I just peed my pants for laughing so hard.

» 5/26/2006 8:35 AM 
Blogger WILLIAM commented:

Uhmmm...so.. do you come here often? To the potato aisle?

Which reminds me. One potato, two potato, three potato, four. Five potato, six potato, Cat is a dirty...

Sorry just having fun :)

» 5/26/2006 8:57 AM 
Blogger Odd Mix commented:

ROFLMAO! Cat, you kill me.

And TGYM rocks for seeing it happen and appreciating it as a) funny, and b) a totaly unimtended compliment to both of you.

» 5/26/2006 10:22 AM 
Blogger not-so-normal mom commented:

It just makes you all the cuter that you didn't notice, but...You may want to brush up on those skills, sister. We have our feminine wiles so that we may get special treatment in necessary situations. Like front of the line privelages at the grocery store and free paint at home depot. Work on it, girl!!!

» 5/26/2006 10:35 AM 
Blogger CameraDawktor commented:

Oh my, the last time I was flirted with was when my urologist was removing my stint, and I was in a very "precarious" position, and he says, "Sorry I'm getting you wet, but my nipple is leaking."

Weird time for a doctor to flirt when your crotch is in his face, at least he was cute though!!!!!!

I played too.

» 5/26/2006 10:40 AM 
Blogger CameraDawktor commented:

Wait, I said I played too and you didn't play! I just came over here from random and odd so my brain was partly shut-off from all the flirting thoughts.

Anyway, I played SPF today.

» 5/26/2006 10:41 AM 
Blogger Well-heeled mom commented:

So it's true! I always heard that hot guys hang out in grocery stores to pick up women!

Lucky you!

» 5/26/2006 11:12 AM 
Blogger Amy commented:

Awesome post, Cat. You are one funny sweet potato.

» 5/26/2006 11:15 AM 
Blogger mrtl commented:

too funny

» 5/26/2006 11:46 PM 
Anonymous kalki commented:

Oh, honey, he was SO flirting with you...

"Mmm, sweet potatoes."
Flirtian translation: Mmm, you have nice boobs.

"How do you know which ones are good?"
Flirtian translation: How can I get under your shirt?

"So, short and fat?"
Flirtian translation: Baby, I wanna show you that it's not the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean.

» 5/27/2006 11:31 AM 
Blogger Nilbo commented:

God, can't we men even go to the grocery store without oversexed, desperate women thinking everything we say is all about YOU?

Clearly this guy wanted some sweet potatoes, which he obviously loves, and was not quite sure how to determine the best quality or size of potato for maximum flavour.

I just thank god for this poor guy that he didn't run into you while buying a kumquat or a cucumber. God only knows what grotesque assumptions you might have made about his desire for you based on how he held a cuke.

You women need to get over yourselves and stop assuming every time we look at you we want to boink you.

We do, but stop assuming it, please.

» 5/28/2006 9:39 AM 
Blogger Nilbo commented:

Ain't nobody drives a wooden stake through a the heart of a comment stream like Nilbo.

» 5/28/2006 4:44 PM 
Blogger Cat commented:


» 5/28/2006 4:47 PM 
Blogger Nilbo commented:

(wink) indeed ... time for me to retire from this commenting biz ...

» 5/28/2006 6:44 PM 

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