Archive for June, 2007

Making the Milk Run

Milk runs are a funny thing… Dad gives you money at 10:00 at night, tells you to go buy milk, you sit around until he gets impatient and tells you to GO. NOW. So you go, and get the milk.  But many detours are taken along the way.  You take the long way, because you don’t really want to go home because nothing good is on TV right now because all you have in network TV, and anything is better than that. 

You get into the store, and take the long way to the milk, taking your own sweet time, probably making a pass down the makeup isle (or whatever isle guys tend to enjoy — makup isle for me), maybe look at a few things and put them in the back of your mind to buy later (because all your dad gave you was three dollars to BUY MILK), and then finally get to the milk.  Now here is where it gets complicated.  There are about twenty different brands, percents, sales, and stuff to choose from.  You wrack your brain as to what color the cap on your milk is, and what the little picture is on the sticker.  You finally end up just picking the same color cap with the cheapest Fresh Price Price.  You open the fridge (real effort is needed here.  You’re TIRED.  And bored.), and wiggle your hand around all the cold milk to try to reach the stupid handle on the milk, and after you finally get a grasp on it, you actually have to get the milk OUT of the jaws of the fridge. 

The top obstacle: The price stick thing that just too big.  The bottom obstacle: The little barricade keeping the milk from falling out all over the floor, which still looks a little flimsy so you help the next cartons of milk down so they don’t fall against the “barricade.”  Your quest is to get the milk OUT of these jaws of the fridge.  You pull the milk and it’s stopped by both of these obstacles.  Okay, now you have to get creative and pull it out by the top.  With a little bit of fancy maneuvering and pushing of nearby cartons, you finally manage to get the milk out.  That’s the most exciting thing that’s happened all night!  And of course you help the next milk cartons down so they don’t come crashing down on the floor and make your flip-flops all sour-milk smelling the next day. 

Next, you walk (slowly) back to the register, hoping beyond all hope that you’ll see a friend somewhere in the store, also making another pass down the makeup isle (or card / tools / toy / candy / school supply isle) making sure you didn’t miss anything, and finally make your way to the longest check-out line, even though all the self-checkout isles are open.  Now, all this time, you are feverishly texting people you know in hopes that maybe they also have to make a grocery-store run so that you will have at least ONE social experience on this draining milk excursion.  You sit there and hold your milk, feeling very silly standing there with three dollars and a carton of milk.  You avoid eye contact like the plague, denying that yes, you are on a 10:30 milk run wearing your work shirt that still smells like Chinese food. 

Suddenly, your fingers start to freeze, which creeps up your hand, and up to your wrist, which is very unpleasant because of the abundance of veins in that particular area.  You switch hands and suddenly, you find out that yes!  You do know somebody that just HAPPENS to have to get tuna at the SAME store at the SAME time! (YOU know who you are)  They get there while you are still in line (yes, it’s been about five minutes and the same lady is still up at the register trying to haggle prices with the cashier or something), they arrive, harrass your dumb little milk run, get their tuna, and come up and wait patiently in line behind you, continuing in harrassing you and making you regret ever having made this stupid milk run. 

You get up the the register in hopes that they’ll have those little individual chocolates up there.  Not so.  Bummer.  The person in front of and behind you (your “friend” [jk]) puts those little separators between your item and theirs, just in case the lame-oh cooties of your dumb milk run spill over onto their equally as obscure and odd items.  I mean seriously… TUNA?  Anyway, you pay with your measly three dollars, take one last longing glance at the candy and put your milk in a plastic bag.  Now, many would NOT consider this odd, because the veins in your wrist are still sore from holding that stupid milk and you’d rather make it easy on yourself by putting it in a bag — besides, you need more trash bags. 

Your “friend” continues harrassing you about your pansy-type milk-in-a-bag ways, and tries to steal your milk.  Sure, his INTENTIONS may be good, but all it succeeds in is causing you undue stress at this late hour.  You oblidge and let this PERSON carry your milk, even though now, you are PERFECTLY capable of carrying it on your own, and walk to your hideous excuse for a car.  It doesn’t even have a CD player.  It has a TAPE player.  Who has TAPES anymore?!  Well.  You let your “friend” stick the milk in the back, and then they insist on closing your door for you.  You oblidge.  You have no choice, as they have a death-grip on the door meaning “you will LET me close this door.  Please?” Goodbye?  Yes.  Finally.  (jk) You drive home, this time taking the faster way, because you know you just HAVE to blog this epic experience.  Then, you thank heaven that you weren’t buying something stranger.  Like TUNA.

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