You Just Can't Make This Stuff Up...

Last week, hubby had the sad task of going back east to his hometown to help his parents move out of their home of 47 years into an assisted living complex. Fortunately his other siblings gathered together to participate and make it a loving family event.

In the meantime, I was still down with the flu and barely able to maintain a minimum of interest in life.

Luckily my guys are teens, and able to function on their own (if it means throwing something into the microwave to keep from starving. No I am NOT going to make you French Toast with brown sugar and cinnamon, dammit! I'm dying here!)

There wasn't any school on Thursday or Friday, due to parent/teacher conferences, so Little Guy was home. By Friday night, both Big Kid and Little Guy were stir-crazy. They begged me to take them into town to the video store.

So I dragged my carcass to the car, and the guys picked out a few movies that we probably wouldn't watch if hubby was home.

As long as there aren't any nekkid boobies or spurting stumps, I don't mind watching crap if it means I can bond with the guys (There is something very wrong with watching American Wedding next to your teen-age son).

While we were checking out, I noticed that it was starting to snow.

Heavily.

I said to the guys, "You want to go next door and pick up some dinner from Subway?" I wasn't being altruistic---they wanted to order pizza, but if I won't drive on slick mountain roads, I sure as heck don't want some teenager doing it for minimum wage just so my guys can have cheesy bites.

They agreed enthusiastically.

The young guy with the long hair and the soul patch who was ringing up our movies curled his lip.

"You don't want to eat there!" he said. "Their food is bad for you!"

"Well Jerod seems to like it" I said mildly---referring to the guy who lost a zillion pounds eating Subway Sandwiches and made himself a household name (plus got himself a lifetime contract starring in the commercials even though he's about as motivating as a box full of dirt).

"Jerod would eat ANYTHING! He just likes food!", Soul Patch sneered.

Whatevah!

We went next door to Subway and got in line.

In front of us was a healthy young man who was blocking the flow and holding back from getting his order, because he was busy yakking up a couple of high school girls who were sitting and eating and trying not to look bored out of their skulls.

My Little Guy broke the spell. "Hi Britnee!!! Hi Ambergris!!!"

Ranting about girls who have porn star names is best kept to another post entirely.

Healthy Young Man ordered 3 sandwiches. I noticed that he was wearing a video store shirt, and snickered to myself. Apparently not all the employees over there agree with Soul Patch about the crappiness of Subway subs, since this guy was obviously ordering for them.

While he was waiting for the "sandwich artists" to assemble his stuff, Healthy Young Man asked my guys what movies they got. They told him, and he launched into a soliloquy about how he has a such a huge DVD collection that he could watch a different movie every night for 3 years. And expounded about his comic book collection. And so on. And so on. And so on.

Meanwhile, his sandwiches were wrapped and ready to be rung up, and the "sandwich artists" were trying to get our order. My guys were hungry and restless. He finally got the point and moved on.

We got our order, and started walking out of the store.

Healthy Young Man was sitting at a table, eating all three sandwiches.

My guys said bye to him.

I said, "It was nice talking to you...", and looked down at his nametag. "Jerod".

Fortunately, I was able to hold it together until I got to the car.

I swear, you just can't make this stuff up!