3/11........I'm back!!!! Word up, homie? I'm not making any promises, but it's 3/11 and it's a good day to start blogging again. As if I was blogging consistently in the first place. I think posting a bunch on Jo's forum (www.joannemarie.com/forum) prevent me from blogging, because I get out my thoughts and opinions there quite often. Hell, I have twice as many posts as the moderator of the forum. It's nice to belong to a community. Lately the only community I associate with on a daily basis are my dogs, my chick, her best friend, and if I'm lucky, the blockbuster employee behind the counter. It's been nice to be secluded for a while, but it would be nice to have some friends to hang out with once in a while. Maybe once a month; any more and I'll get sick of them. It's also given me some time to clean up around the house, and look inward.
Jo and I had a pretty interesting and nostalgic weekend. First of all, we don't go to the groceries together often. I guess we're afraid of getting into a fight in middle of the bread section and suddenly getting a loaf of Columbo bread thrown at your head. But we've been getting better at it. It's actually nice to go the groceries together; it's like a team--sport. Complete with hand signals, and one-word questions and answers..."Milk?" "Nope." "TP?" "Got it." Alright, the last one was two words, and the one before that was an abbreviation, but you get the picture. I want in and out. I especially love the end of the grocery shopping experience, which results in finding which line is the shortest. It's a lost artform. One line may seem shorter than the other, but then there goes the single mom with a hundred items and a thousand coupons, especially the 50 cans of soup that go on sale for a buck a pop, and of course, she has to pull out the friggin' bane of my supermarket existence....the checkbook. Who writes checks anymore? And then there's the price check dude. You stand there awkwardly as the checker tries to look busy, avoid eye contact, and wait for Felipe who's taking his sweet ole' time checking for the price of the seedless grapes (it's gotta be seedless, motherfucker!) Anyhoo, that's the grocery store for you. I should get on with my story....
Jo and I are in the meat sxn, trying to figure out if we have any more chicken thighs in the fridge, and all of a sudden, rounding the condiment corner, is a spectre from our past. This dude....let's name him Frankie....fuck it, Franco is his name....and he was a good friend of ours. I knew this cat since 3rd grade when I used to go over his house and play Jumpman, Jr. on his Commodore 64. Jo and Franco has always had a good relationship all throughout high school and college. In fact, he even tried to see if there was a chance that they could get together right before I ensnared my future wife with my amazing charm and good looks (insert laugh track here). What is it with friends/assholes/strangers that try to get up on Joanne? I've had a good friend of mine do it right after one of our many breakups, a dude who barely knew her telling her he would "take her on a moonlight walk" (in fact it was one of Franco's good friends; I think his name was Reynato - what major asshole), an acquantance (sic) who eventually got together with her when we broke up a final time, but is now her best friend and my good friend (go figure), and her sister-n-laws cousin who tried to get together with her while we were going out, and still tried to get with her after he had a girlfriend AND after we were married. Now this asswipe (letsname him.....Brian.....which is an anagram of Brain.....which is an organ department that he is a bit deficient in; let's call him a bit special) is engaged to that girl - poor girl cuz she doesn't even know it; the guy's a real slimeball, and a lousy basketball player. I've seen more physical coordination on Biddy the robot from the old Buck Rodgers TV series. Biddy-biddy-biddy! (Damn Erin Greyt was hot, especially in her tights) This guy couldn't shoot the ball straight if his dick was in a vice and his manhood (or lack thereof) depended on it. Whew! Another tangent. I feel like I'm in Geometry class.
Alright, Franny, let's get the ADD under control. Things to get....Ritalin, Adderall, Reefer......Back to the story....to make a long story short....Franco's girlfriend fucks Joanne royally (and they were best friends), pretends to go to medical school, takes Jo's identity, fucks with her own cousin, and brings Franco along for the ride. Apparently, he's willing to go with her. When we tried to tell Franco how fucked up she was, it seemed as though he already knew....asshole! It had been two years since we last see him, and here he is at Albertson's buying food to stuff his fat ass. He looks Jo directly in the face and turns away immediately. Jo dogs him with her "stare death" (her infamous stare death put many a girl and guy in Logan High School between 1989 and 1993 in their place and crying for their momma; believe me....I was a constant recipient for the fir three years). Of course, I'm oblivious because I'm trying to figure out if $2.99 a pound for chicken thighs is a good deal. I finally see him out of the corner of my eye, and being the calm and cool character that I am, I start giggling like a school girl. In fact, Jo and I sneak of into an aisle and it's high school all over again. "Oh my gosh, Becky, look at his butt....it's fatter than ever!" The funny thing is, we actually run into him again, almost running him over with our cart. If it wasn't for my quick thinking, we would have. I can't pretend to be clairvoyant, but I had a feeling that our paths would cross again. So as we walked down the main aisle, I was cognizant of the good chance that he would be crisscrossing from another aisle. Sure enough he comes out of the soda aisle, and a plit second before that, I direct Jo and the cart over into the olive oil aisle. Was it luck? Premonition? The smell of his stanky ass repelling my very being? Who knows.....
Ironically, Franco's ex-girlfriend from high school, who also had a falling out with Joanne, showed up in that same market about two years before, and did the same exact thing. Ignored us. Pussies.
Jo and I had a pretty interesting and nostalgic weekend. First of all, we don't go to the groceries together often. I guess we're afraid of getting into a fight in middle of the bread section and suddenly getting a loaf of Columbo bread thrown at your head. But we've been getting better at it. It's actually nice to go the groceries together; it's like a team--sport. Complete with hand signals, and one-word questions and answers..."Milk?" "Nope." "TP?" "Got it." Alright, the last one was two words, and the one before that was an abbreviation, but you get the picture. I want in and out. I especially love the end of the grocery shopping experience, which results in finding which line is the shortest. It's a lost artform. One line may seem shorter than the other, but then there goes the single mom with a hundred items and a thousand coupons, especially the 50 cans of soup that go on sale for a buck a pop, and of course, she has to pull out the friggin' bane of my supermarket existence....the checkbook. Who writes checks anymore? And then there's the price check dude. You stand there awkwardly as the checker tries to look busy, avoid eye contact, and wait for Felipe who's taking his sweet ole' time checking for the price of the seedless grapes (it's gotta be seedless, motherfucker!) Anyhoo, that's the grocery store for you. I should get on with my story....
Jo and I are in the meat sxn, trying to figure out if we have any more chicken thighs in the fridge, and all of a sudden, rounding the condiment corner, is a spectre from our past. This dude....let's name him Frankie....fuck it, Franco is his name....and he was a good friend of ours. I knew this cat since 3rd grade when I used to go over his house and play Jumpman, Jr. on his Commodore 64. Jo and Franco has always had a good relationship all throughout high school and college. In fact, he even tried to see if there was a chance that they could get together right before I ensnared my future wife with my amazing charm and good looks (insert laugh track here). What is it with friends/assholes/strangers that try to get up on Joanne? I've had a good friend of mine do it right after one of our many breakups, a dude who barely knew her telling her he would "take her on a moonlight walk" (in fact it was one of Franco's good friends; I think his name was Reynato - what major asshole), an acquantance (sic) who eventually got together with her when we broke up a final time, but is now her best friend and my good friend (go figure), and her sister-n-laws cousin who tried to get together with her while we were going out, and still tried to get with her after he had a girlfriend AND after we were married. Now this asswipe (letsname him.....Brian.....which is an anagram of Brain.....which is an organ department that he is a bit deficient in; let's call him a bit special) is engaged to that girl - poor girl cuz she doesn't even know it; the guy's a real slimeball, and a lousy basketball player. I've seen more physical coordination on Biddy the robot from the old Buck Rodgers TV series. Biddy-biddy-biddy! (Damn Erin Greyt was hot, especially in her tights) This guy couldn't shoot the ball straight if his dick was in a vice and his manhood (or lack thereof) depended on it. Whew! Another tangent. I feel like I'm in Geometry class.
Alright, Franny, let's get the ADD under control. Things to get....Ritalin, Adderall, Reefer......Back to the story....to make a long story short....Franco's girlfriend fucks Joanne royally (and they were best friends), pretends to go to medical school, takes Jo's identity, fucks with her own cousin, and brings Franco along for the ride. Apparently, he's willing to go with her. When we tried to tell Franco how fucked up she was, it seemed as though he already knew....asshole! It had been two years since we last see him, and here he is at Albertson's buying food to stuff his fat ass. He looks Jo directly in the face and turns away immediately. Jo dogs him with her "stare death" (her infamous stare death put many a girl and guy in Logan High School between 1989 and 1993 in their place and crying for their momma; believe me....I was a constant recipient for the fir three years). Of course, I'm oblivious because I'm trying to figure out if $2.99 a pound for chicken thighs is a good deal. I finally see him out of the corner of my eye, and being the calm and cool character that I am, I start giggling like a school girl. In fact, Jo and I sneak of into an aisle and it's high school all over again. "Oh my gosh, Becky, look at his butt....it's fatter than ever!" The funny thing is, we actually run into him again, almost running him over with our cart. If it wasn't for my quick thinking, we would have. I can't pretend to be clairvoyant, but I had a feeling that our paths would cross again. So as we walked down the main aisle, I was cognizant of the good chance that he would be crisscrossing from another aisle. Sure enough he comes out of the soda aisle, and a plit second before that, I direct Jo and the cart over into the olive oil aisle. Was it luck? Premonition? The smell of his stanky ass repelling my very being? Who knows.....
Ironically, Franco's ex-girlfriend from high school, who also had a falling out with Joanne, showed up in that same market about two years before, and did the same exact thing. Ignored us. Pussies.
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