I was almost going to tell you a story of how Nate enlisted the help of the Buffalo Bills and ginormous boulder holders to kill me dead

When I sat down at my computer today, I had every intention of writing a really fascinating post, a fable of sorts. I was going to set the scene at a bustling Target one Saturday morning and follow it up with multiple paragraphs of character development and an exciting plot filled with one man’s version of Internet porn, some lingerie and a touch of negligent homicide. It was going to be a story wrought with moral turpitude, conflict, mental cruelty and angst, culminating in an emotionally gut wrenching climax of lessons learned.

The story was going to be centered around a man hopping online without supervision *again* and buying a $140.00 juicer for his family which, admittedly, doesn’t sound like a very compelling tale but HOLD ON TO YOUR KNICKERS, PEOPLE because I was going to add in little interesting details like … oh, I don’t know … maybe the man inadvertently revealing this purchase to his wife whilst she was perusing the women’s underwear department of Target?

And then maybe the wife had flashbacks to $80 Chia Pets and gasped so hard that she nearly swallowed her adenoids while screaming BUT NO ONE IN OUR FAMILY EVEN DRINKS JUICE.

And then maybe the man slowly backed away from his wife because her left eye was starting to twitch and her head was starting to spin counter clockwise and she was starting to speak in tongues.

And then maybe the man narrowly escaped a 100% cotton 8-pair jumbo pack enema by grabbing his daughter’s hand and dragging her away to the pet department under the guise of getting their puppy some new chew toys because it turns out their puppy is really a seven pound furry piranha in disguise.

And then maybe the daughter returned to the wife at a full speed run twenty minutes later, waving what appeared to be an outfit for her American Girl doll which would have been really weird because it had been forever since the daughter had played tattoo parlor with a permanent marker on that particular $100 Christmas gift but whatever, there were more pressing issues at hand, such as determining the difference between hipsters and bikinis, and theorizing why people choose to wear thongs because don’t we as a people spend enough time trying to yank our undies out of our fanny cleavage as it is? And by the way, HOLY SHIT, IS THAT A CHRISTMAS TREE IN ELECRONICS?

And then maybe it turned out that what the daughter was hysterically waving in the air was not, in fact, an outfit for a grossly overpriced doll but rather a miniature Buffalo Bills t-shirt, sized extra-small and made specifically for seven pound incognito shih-poo piranha puppies and then the wife who, having previously made it crystal clear to her family that dressing up any animals in clothing is seventy-two different kinds of WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, decided that it was high time to sit the man down for a long overdue Come To Jesus talk even if it had to take place in the midst of granny panties but before she could tackle him to the floor and hogtie him with his colon, she heard her daughter excitedly exclaim IT WAS ONLY TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS, MOM! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?

And then maybe the wife couldn’t see straight anymore for all the blood gushing around her brain which caused her head to spin right off her body and ricochet around the racks of bras and thongs, getting snagged on a 44DDD which acted like a slingshot, launching her bloody head right back at her headless body like some heat seeking missile, causing it to slam into her legs, shattering her shins and dropping her to the ground where she lay unconscious and left to wonder which of these egregious offenses would ultimately do her in: the shock of seeing the $140 juicer appear on their bank statement and doorstep, the two inches of dust that will have inevitably collected on the unopened box three months after delivery, the disembodied, bloody head that took out her kneecaps, her puppy prancing around as a mascot for a football team who loses season after season out of sheer habit, the obscenely premature appearance of the elves staring down at her from the shelf above, or the fact that despite her own preaching, she would finally be caught dead while wearing torn and stained period panties, they being the only underwear she owned to date, thus her browsing of the Fruit of the Looms in a bustling Target on a Saturday morning in the first place.

I was even going to post a picture and everything.

But after several minutes of staring at a blank screen, I ultimately wound up chucking the whole story idea.

I just couldn’t find the right words.



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29 thoughts on “I was almost going to tell you a story of how Nate enlisted the help of the Buffalo Bills and ginormous boulder holders to kill me dead”

  1. Avatar

    First of all, I’m a tiny bit jealous. I’d love to have a juicer. We drink juice over here at my house.

    Secondly, my kid really, really, really, REALLY wants to be able to put cute clothing and accessories on our cat (as we do not have a dog yet). So, I will show her the picture of Ollie in his jersey (on a separate page so she doesn’t start reading the f-bombs and other grown-up words, as she’s already traumatized from reading about the guy who killed the 100 dogs on his property from the piece of newspaper I had wrapped her collage homework assignment in per teacher instructions) and she will swoon with delight and envy.

    Thirdly, you didn’t mention the ulterior motive for this post, that being to goad me into losing my chickenitude and posting the rest of my vacation story, as shared with you and you alone in Panera the other week. 😉

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    I know eh? What is wrong with people who dress up their pets LOL.
    Now don’t look at my blog with pics of my cat in a tutu. It was just for laughs and it ONLY cost me a dollar teehee.

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    I think there is about an inch waist coverage difference between hipsters & bikinis. If you pants waistband gaps at all because your hips are a size 12 and your waist is a size 10 and you bend over or squat while wearing a shirt that is NOT a tunic but just a regular old shirt the fleshy area then exposed on your back between the shirt and the gaping pants will show off your hipsters to the world at large, but probably not the bikinis.

    Not that I know that from experience, I read it on the web somewhere.

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    Just when I thought I’d laughed all I would this morning, the comments got me laughing even more. A great morning pick-me-up.

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    We just sold a juicer on Craigslist…I should’ve just sent it to you. We actually got it as a wedding present 8 years ago and Tim’s been holding on to it ever since, saying, “But I might try it one of these days”. It was still unopened so I sold the damn thing. Ya think he noticed? Nope…he still thinks it’s in the garage.

    I just love your stories…they make me feel so…well, normal.

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    We’re getting a cat this weekend. I am a little worried what Lauren will dress it up like since we have a plethora of dress up dresses laying around my house. :p

    Nate can make me some juice when I come visit. I loves me some juice.

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    This was the funniest shit I have read in a LONG time my favorite part was, “seventy-two different kinds of WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU” priceless! Every single time I come over to your blog I end up laughing…great post!

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