Several times today while I was shopping at Walmart I was bothered by other shoppers seeking assistance with various questions: “Can you tell me where I can find…. ” fill in the blank. Apparently I looked like I worked there. Now, Reader, I will admit that I didn’t put forth much effort in appearance today. I decided to make my way to the gym and cut back on getting-pretty time, settling for a quick post-gym shower, wet hair in pony tail, a lite dusting of powder and a quick coat of mascara. But it wasn’t a sweat-pant day. And I put on a bra! It’s absolutely not the worst I’ve ever looked leaving the house, oh, no, not by far. Yet somewhere the effort wasn’t quite enough to secure me as a shopper vs. worker. Some dude who asked me where he could find mulch said it was my blue shirt that confused him. Really? That’s for playing, but I don’t buy your story. I looked just hillbilly enough. It’s a fine line I walk some days. Some days I don’t make it to the other side.
My trip to Walmart yielded the following items:
Peanut butter filled Oreos cookies. Yes, I know, I know – negates the whole trip to the gym. But they’re PEANUT BUTTER FILLED OREOS!! Hormonal women are not meant or expected to pass those by. I’ve naturally tried a couple of them and they haven’t met my expectations. They’re okay, but not so great I would have to buy them again. The originals are just too hard to beat. Maybe I’ll give them another chance with the aid of milk for dunking.
Herbs and flowers. And a tomato plant. Prices are cheap at the moment, so I planted some cilantro, thyme and sweet basil, hoping to fresh-herb myself silly this summer. I like the cilantro for my homemade corn salsa, and the plant was $3, which is much cheaper than buying fresh cilantro at Giant Eagle. So we’ll see how this works out. Now, the other part of this cilanto-buying story goes like this. A co-worker started a bunch of herbs from seeds a month or so ago and gave me a little cup of cilantro for replanting. It never made it to a real pot and died on the window sill. I hope I have better luck this go-round.
KY-Gel. Now, let me tell you about this. I’ve seen this stuff advertised on t.v. and it piqued my curiousity with it’s promise to intensify my satisfaction. Who wouldn’t want the most intense satisfaction imaginable?? So I checked it out a month or so ago when we were shopping, and I was startled by the high-ticket price of $24.00. My satisfaction wasn’t bad as it was, and I knew I could guarantee more intense pleasure if I spent that $24 on a new blouse. So I skipped it. But today, I decided my vagina was worth $24 and I splurged and brought it home.
Kenny came home from work and I started stripping down before he even got his shoes off, I told him we had to put this to the test. For curious minds, I’ll tell you it kinda felt like Vicks Vaporub, only not so sting-ie. Was my pleasure more intense? I don’t know. I think it’s kinda like the peanut-butter filled oreos. Not bad, but not all I had envisioned. I think I expected fireworks to go off between my legs. Maybe, like the oreos, I’ll try it with a glass of milk next time.
The *couldn’t come soon enough for some readers* end.