Men and the crap they talk about

Men and the crap they talk about

I thought when Em got here I’d have a girl to talk too. I did, for a minute but the men out number the girls here and they have totally corrupted her.

She thinks all their ideas are brilliant- for instance, the man grocery store.

See, I don’t have a freaking car. I can’t go to the store unless someone is home. Mostly, nobody is ever home but me and Em. To save gas they call me and ask me if I want anything at the store on their way home.

Okay in 10 years Del never had to make a certain purchase for me but really, I have not left this house in over a month. Supplies run out, you know?

Anyway, he did as I asked and we are never suppose to speak of it again. He’s pretty upset about and surprisingly so am I.

So later in the afternoon Del and Brother were sitting around talking about taking out a bank loan when I joined them.

“Why are you taking out a loan?” I asked.

“To open our own grocery store.” Del said.

Seriously, that was the last thing I expected him to say. I was hoping it was for a freaking car but whatever, I have no place to go anyway. (Not while Florida is having raging heat storms at the moment. Just wait until I can go outside again. It’s over then.)

“Why do we need a grocery store?” I asked not really minding the idea of it. I could have my own supplies delivered by the truckload then and never, ever have to be faced with deciding which man in my house I would have to ask to stop and get things for me.

“Did you know that they don’t sell cake mixes with frosting included?” Brother asked.

Wait, what? Did we change the channel here?

“That’s why we had to buy a brownie mix.” Del said.

Oh, that makes sense. That does make sense, right?

“Well, there are cake mixes on the market that come with frosting…” I started to say when I was cut off by Brother.

“Those cakes are tiny. We’d have to buy 8 of them for a snack. We needed a real cake. A man sized cake.” Brother said.

“Okay, so why didn’t you buy a cake mix and a can of frosting?” I asked.

“Because Del wouldn’t believe me when I said the can of frosting wasn’t inside the box.” Brother said. “And YOU wouldn’t answer your stupid phone to confirm it.”

I just looked at Del. It was all I could do. Del is a pretty smart guy but this was the dumbest thing I had heard. How is a round can going to fit inside a square box?

“Well, why don’t they? Who buys a cake without frosting? It should be inside the box.” Del said.

Ahhhh, what do you say to that?

“Well, it’s America and we are allowed choices?” I said because it was the only thing I could think of to say. “What if you want chocolate cake with vanilla or strawberry frosting. Don’t you want to make that choice?”

“Dude, she does other things to the mix. Not all the shit is inside the box.” Brother said.

“You do?” Del asked me.

“Yeah, if I didn’t then it would be a cake, right?” I asked. Maybe the heat has finally cooked his Mainer brain?

“Dude, if I wanted a cake before I moved here, I went to the store and bought one. I never had to deal with an unassembled cake before.” Del said trying to defend himself. “I don’t pay attention to what she is doing in the kitchen until I smell food, okay?”

This is true. If we wanted a cake we just bought one. I don’t know if cake is just cheaper in Maine or if the economy has gone that far into the shitter but a cake in Maine was about $5. Here the starting price is around $10 so I bought and baked my own cake the last time I went to the store.

Which like I said has been a while so it was cake time again.

Cake is important around here. We like cake. In Maine we would get cakes for no particular reason and almost always had the bakery write something on it for shits and giggles.

“Your name here”

“Eat me”

Stuff like that.

We have found that not everyone understands cake either. Sometimes when you by a cake for no particular reason it raises questions. What are you celebrating? Whose birthday is it?

Nothing and nobody. It’s just time for cake.

“So because YOU didn’t answer your damn phone, we had to get brownies.” Brother said repeating the part about me not answering the phone.

I can’t always find my phone. I put it down where ever I am when I am finished talking. I thought this had been covered before.

But like our mother, Brother will keep bringing up something I have done that was just wrong in their eyes. I don’t know how many times something has to be brought up before I am forgiven for it but I am sure I haven’t heard the last of it.

“So we are going to open our own grocery store.” Del said.

Okay, so we are back to this.

“That way we can tape the can of frosting to the box and sell it as one item. You also get a free beer when you walk in the store.” Del continued.

Of course.

“Then when your wife calls and says ‘honey will you stop at the store’ it will be a non-issue. Men will be more than happy to stop. It’s a brilliant idea.” Brother said.

“And girl shit will be sold in plain brown wrappers. No more choices on that crap. Dude, do you know they have some that you need a freaking pilot license for? Wings? What the hell? And why do you need an entire isle for one problem? Men’s razors only get one tiny little shelf. Women’s crap…half the store. That is over!” Del said.

“From now on you guys are only getting a little tiny shelf. Men will have an entire isle for razors and deodorant.” Brother said.

Okay, so the only men that will be shopping in their store are drunks that have a sweet tooth. But at least they will be clean shaven and smell good.

“We can have heavy metal playing in the store too.” Brother suggested.

“And Howard Stern. We’ll get XM radio. We can throw a few TV’s up around the place too.” Del said.

I couldn’t take it anymore. “Am I the only one sitting here that knows you’re taking about opening a bar?”

“Bars” Brother said matter of factly “Don’t sell cake.”

I sat corrected. I would have stood corrected but it was too hot outside and I’m kind of lazy.

The name of the place? “The Store” of course.

LYMI