Power Shopping

 

     I think I need to slow down a little people. Let’s be honest with each other a blog a day is a bit much. Pretty soon we’re all gonna burn out and nobody will want to read my blogs anymore. Sure they’re entertaining but do I look like a clown to you people? Do I amuse you? Am I funny? Funny how? Sorry had a Good Fella’s moment there. I think a blog a week is good. Gives everyone a chance to absorb them a little without being rushed into reading another one. No one needs to read a blog from a burned out Dr Peanut. Soon the blogs will just read like this; What do you people want from me? Blood? I gave you my soul, yet you want more! You’re all leeches, sick voyeurs taking pleasure in feeding off my corpse. I have done all I can for you sickos and you want more? You’re all leeches. Nobody wants to read that. It’s quite frightening. Now it puts the lotion on it’s skin, it does this when it’s told. It puts the lotion on it’s skin or else it gets the hose again. Sorry.  I’m digressing.

     Did I ever mention that I hate shopping? I hate the mall with its canned music and giddy power walkers. When I see a power walker I want to just tackle them and tell them to run it’ll get them where they’re going a heck of a lot faster. I was at a mall once and I was beyond frustrated because there are so many stores yet not one book store. How is that possible? Do people read anymore? Anyway shopping with women is the worst because women say you’re shopping with them but in all honesty you’re just there to hold her purse and compliment. Married men can sympathize with me because we’ve all been there. After an hour you start to lose your mind and you start thinking about running and never looking back. As you’re running you just scream; I hate you!! Shopping to me is the worst thing ever.

     Now that I’m single I truly dreaded the whole shopping for groceries and even contemplated on actually paying someone to do it for me. I realized that as a single man it’s now my responsibility to stock the man cave with frozen dinners and enough snacks to make anyone stroke out. I can cook but I’m a single man and it’s not easy cooking for two people. I learned quickly that if you go to the grocery store you have to have some kind of list. It’s like going into a battlefield unarmed. You’re just going to get shot and it’s just not a good idea. I have the list in my head and I hit the grocery store with a purpose.

      I am whipping around like it’s the Indy 500. My shopping cart tires are smoking, at one point and I could have swore I saw a yellow caution flag. The point is that if men do the shopping it would make life a lot easier. I was able to actually get almost everything on my list and was out of the store in fifteen minutes. It would have taken less but for some reason the checkout lines are always closed and they have at least twenty people shuffling their feet and swearing under their breath. Then by some miracle one lane suddenly opens and it’s like a stampede to be the first one there. It’s like a bunch of bulls were suddenly let out of their pen and they are cheesed off and confused but through it all they can smell freedom.

     I would rather have my eyes gouged out with a spork than shop. Christmas almost gave me a panic attack. I was broke and held off shopping as long as I could then on Christmas Eve I said screw it this has to get done so I had the list in my head and off I went. I called my mom and invited her along just to keep me focused but it turns out I didn’t need her. I went to three stores and  all my Christmas shopping was done in fifteen minutes. No old ladies were injured, no one got sucker punched for just blocking my aisle. Women hate shopping with me because I am not one to look around and dilly dally. I treat it as a military mission. I know where everything is and I get it and I’m done. I don’t play around. How I shop is no secret and I’m sure a lot of guys are just like me.

     Now let’s go into dating shall we? I hear ya. What does that have to do with shopping. A lot. You’re basically looking for someone you can date so technically you’re shopping. Problem is I have no idea what I’m looking for. If you ask me I’ll be honest and tell you a pulse, and preferably all of her fingers and toes must be present and accounted for. For years my type was my wife but she’s unavailable so now I’m like a kid in a toy store and I just wanna touch everything.  I’m just not sure about the whole dating thing. The whole getting to know someone and finding out that they fibbed a little and suddenly the person you thought you liked is actually a slob or a clingy nut job that needs a babysitter and not a boyfriend just frustrates me.

      I’m not a patient person by any means and I’m not a people person. For me to make small talk is rather difficult because I never know what to say. Plus after watching Fatal Attraction I always wonder if they’re going to boil my bunny and just freak out and try to kill me. Am I being paranoid? Of course but I was married for so long that the idea of dating again scares the crap out of me. What happens if I actually like a girl and she wants to eat my liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti? I’m sure that there are nice women out there but knowing my luck I’m going to hit the psycho lottery and end up with a stalker that makes popsicle stick figures of me made with my own hair.

     The kind of girl I’m looking doesn’t exist. I’m quite sure of this. It’s just not possible. I don’t care how hot or beautiful she is as long as she makes me laugh, and has the same sick twisted sense of humor I do. She has to be a bit of a geek that isn’t afraid to hang out and play video games or watch guy flicks or horror films. This woman has to love kids as well as heavy metal and most importantly she has to be okay with the fact that I’m a total and complete mess that occasionally forgets things and more often than not will say and do the wrong thing not because I want to but because I’m awkward like that. She has to be a reader and accept that sometimes I just don’t want to talk on the phone and prefer to have moments where I need to just be myself. It’s got nothing to do with her it’s just how I’m wired. Most importantly she has to love The Beatles and she can’t fake it because I’ll know. In all honesty you just can’t fake a love for The Beatles. That’s what I ‘m looking for and I have yet to find her and probably won’t but that’s okay. I’ll keep shopping until I do.

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