No Man’s Land

Everyone dreads the grocery store before a holiday. Maybe not everyone, but everyone I talk to does. The issue is not Meemaw writing separate checks for all 7 items that she purchased, the issue is the husbands who have taken the week off from work to wear a Guinness shirt that has a hole in the armpit and is about a half a size too small and gym shorts under the guise of “family time.”

And what better way to be with your family than at the supermarket? So come on kids, Aiden, Addaline, Andrew, Anthony, and Arthur, let’s get into our gas guzzling SUV and make a day of it!

I simply cannot believe that all of the husbands in Publix chose today of all days to finally put their foot down and have a say about what kind of yogurt they eat. Men simply have no self-awareness when they enter the doors of a grocery store. All of a sudden they are bombarded with colors and smells and free samples and they cannot cope. It takes careful planning and practice to understand the layout and the flow of a grocery store. This cannot be done 3 days before Christmas.

I actually got caught behind a broad yet short man at the entrance to the dairy aisle with his arms spread wide and his hands like starfish, he was mouthing to his wife at the other end of the aisle, “WHERE?!” Perhaps couples need walkie talkies when they go to a big scary grocery store so that they can communicate about crackers and yogurt without breaking a sweat.

This issue does not stop with Christmas and Thanksgiving. Men can strike without any given notice at the grocery store. Somehow, I don’t even know how, but somehow they can place their cart in the absolute center of an aisle, sideways and wander off. One time some guy did this and when he came back, he came back from another aisle. Carts, my friends, have wheels. I’m pretty sure that’s what makes them carts.

Ok look, if you want to shop, go to a mall. Nobody likes going to the grocery store just to walk around unless you’re in a Judd Apatow film, then maybe. We are all at the grocery store because we need to be. Your family bonding over which bread is the softest is harshing my mellow for the next week. So please, family time is best enjoyed in your own home, much like masturbation.

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