Sights and smells in the local supermarket.

So I ventured to the supermarket cause I was out of chocolate and vodka fresh produce, wearing my purdy shoes. A girl needs to feel purdy when venturing out with the great unwashed.

Armed with my shopping list, I parked next to the most expensive cars I could find – just to add a little excitement to my day – pleaded with Boo to ‘open the door carefully’ and waited patiently for him to let me out of the car.

Cause apparently I am incapable of opening a car door myself. I need to wait till Boo comes and opens the door for me. Then I am required by law or something, to say ‘Thankyou kind sir’. Which is greeted with ‘Thankyou kind sir is not good enough MUM’ by Boo.

He he he. Well the first million times anyway.

Luckily I didn’t have to write a note for a windscreen, the other cars were intact, and we strolled hand in hand into the supermarket. If ‘by hand in hand’ actually means ‘holding his wrist in a death grip lest he run into one of the 40 4wheel drives careening around the carpark’.

We enter by the door furthest away from the car. Cause that is the way Boo rolls. He is all about the inconvenience.

I fight some punk for a basket. Just because he is like 5 or something doesn’t give him the right to that damn basket. Where is the respect? He cries and runs to his mummy admits defeat and the basket is MINE. Sucka!

I break out the list. And find it is one of Boo’s drawings. Dammit. So I go by my stellar memory skillz.

Oooh, something shiny!

We wander up and down the aisles and I chuck random shit in the basket. Boo runs ahead of me to converse with the cleaning fluids and laundry products.

Dude loves him some Napisan OxyAction.

I slowly saunter down after him with visions of floors so clean you can eat off, courtesy of all these amazing products. Who am I kidding? As long as I don’t step on something squishy or crunchy that is good enough for me. Who eats off the floor anyway? Oh, right, yeah. That would be Boo… Meh. Builds up immunity or some such.

As I approach him I pass an old man. Who has just farted. And I had my mouth open. He had broccoli or cabbage for lunch. With a side of mystery meat. I can taste it.

My mouth is open because just past Boo there is a large woman, nay a fucking HUGE woman in a mini skirt and tank top. In the middle of winter. Her butterfly tattoo stretched so grostequely it looks like a bat. On steroids. With that gigantism shit.

Good thing I am in the cleaning aisle cause I need something strong to wash out my eyeballs. Man, I am gunna have nightmares about that shit and OH MY FREAKING GOD she is bending over to peruse the cleaning cloths and NO FUCKING WAY she is wearing a thong. Or maybe not…

ABORT ABORT ABORT!!!!!

But I am transfixed. I cannot tear my eyes away from the horror. Then I see Boo behind the mound that is her behind and he is so enamoured by the Napisan display he is about to take off. He is flapping his arms at warp speed and is starting to squeal in delight. Dude has some serious crushing going on with that pink container…

Then underwear nomming arse looks at Boo with disdain. And I am all ‘WTF mate?’ and I openly look at the woman. I look her up and down. And what is she wearing? You know it. You freaking KNOW IT.

Crocs.

My body starts to shake. The giggles erupt before I even know it. There I am, fabulous shoes and all, bent over laughing and Boo standing beside me, arms whirling with the rapture.

And the woman storms off. And the old man gives us a wide berth as he passes in the aisle.

And he farts again.

Dessert.

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