Those of you
who know me well, know that I am nothing if not a consummate shopper. My
shopping abilities are second to none. I am the one who goes out for one item,
say a jar of mustard. Three hours later I return with a container of cottage
cheese, a rubber mallet (to keep my other one company) and a new plant. Oh, and a bottle of vodka.
Today was
different. I did a Lake Elsinore (aka Lake Oswego) run. For those not in on the
lingo, there is a dispensary in Lake Elsinore, California (Lake Oswego is in
Oregon) and I am announcing that I am headed out to buy some pot when I say “I
am going to Lake Elsinore/Oswego”. I am happy to be the mule for anyone who
would has the dinars! (Remind me to tell you about my experience with Dinars.)
Today was
slightly different. I also went to Costco in Lake Elsinore. I Had an
appointment to have my eyes examined. It went like silk! 40 minutes later I walked
out with a year’s worth of new contacts. I walked back in to do some additional
shopping (reference the vodka mentioned above).
It went of
without a hitch! I was so damn proud of myself. $65.00 worth of booze and I
strolled out of the warehouse together. But there is the $1.50 hot dog meal. I
couldn’t resist, although I have to admit I felt a bit odd pushing a shopping cart
full of ‘adult’ beverages thru the line to get a hot dog, but somethings are
just worth the embarrassment.
I toddled back
to the car and deftly stuck to booze in places where the bottles wouldn’t
rattle. (Remind me to tell you about the time one of the bottles broke. I Still
have scars on my tongue!) I went and sat in said car and ever-so-carefully put the
mustard on the dog. Perfectly executed! I was getting a little cocky by this point. I usually would
have mustard on me by now.
It was a
beautiful day in Lake Elsinore; I decided to open the windows. The amazingly
well-mustarded hot dog sat on my lap. Now because the car one of those
hoity-toity vehicles, I couldn’t just roll down the damn window. I had to pretend
to start the car. That necessitated me lifting a foot and placing it on the break
pedal and leaning forward to push the appropriate button. I am proud to state
that the procedure was a total success. That is unless you count the streak of
yellow across my shirt.
Okay, I only
had one stop left and that was the dispensary. Come on! No budtender worth their
keep would notice. Or if they did, they would think it was like, totally cool.
So, I eat
the dog and take a sip of ice-cold Pepsi. The glass slips.
I jump out
of the car (can’t help but chuckle at the thought of me “jumping out of a car”).
The seat is actually pretty okay, and there are napkins in the car, so all is good
from that angle. But you know, I look at my pants and think to myself, “This
looks like an inside job.”
Oh, and did I
mention “ice-cold”?
I told the
budtender, "I had a little fight with my lunch. My lunch won. Don’t rub my face
in it"! He didn’t.
Oh, and
Gert! Thanks, they all know me by my duck mask! So, I can’t hide!
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