Survival

Yesterday I found myself behind a rather interesting guy at Longs. Interesting in that he was dressed in full workout regalia and had definitely just been at the gym…between the sweat and the bulging muscles, his testosterone was in full swing. What he held in his arms, however, was in deep contrast to this picture of manhood:

1 box of wine…yes, BOX
1 box of tampons
1 box of chocolate
1 bottle of Motrin, extra strength

Clearly, he was going home to a wife or girlfriend in crisis that needed full sedation. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that most women might squeeze their spouses testicles in a not-so-nice-manner if they dared come home with boxed wine…if the painters are in town, you go for the good stuff, if you catch my drift. Women, during this special time, often suddenly possess skills, or “skillz”, that involve sharp objects or things that will induce blunt force trauma. It’s true. Beware. Spend the money on what will make her happy, because getting jacked up on Motrin and cheap wine isn’t our idea of a good time. It’s called SURVIVAL.

He left, I imagine returning home to a significant other who had recently turned into something of a homicidal maniac, and I turned to the woman who was checking me out and said:

“Well, he’s in for a real treat of an evening.”
“He comes in here like clock work, every month, and buys the same things.”
“Someone should introduce him to wine that comes in a bottle.”
“I told him that once and he said that the wine was for him…his wife drinks scotch.”

Seriously? I think he might have the bigger vagina.