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03.10.98     I think that I should win the boyfriend of the year award.  I really do.  As I am typing this week’s entry on the laptop, Liz is resting on the couch with a hot water bottle and a blanket, with stomach cramps, watching Men in Black on video.

Our first week together has been pretty much excellent.  Liz, apparently, has a huge fondness of cooking.  It has been a delight coming home after work to a delicious warm meal.  In addition to the food, it is just neat having a playmate around.  Well, there are other advantages too, but I will not get into that here; this needs to stay a family-rated type of web site.

The first weekend together has been somewhat errr… interesting too.  Finally, I got to see the movie Titanic where Leonardo DiCaprio plays the generic underdog-get-the-girl-poor-guy.  This has got to be the recommended-date-flick of the year.  My friend, Alex, had not seen the movie yet either, but I had a hunch that two dudes should not go see it together: Things like recommended-date-flicks need to stay sacred.  And <BTW> I did not cry.  I did NOT cry.

We also went pet shopping; puppy shopping to be exact.  I have always wanted a dog my whole life.  Now, that I have the means, it is time to turn that dream into a reality.  We are slightly uncertain as to what type of dog to get, but we have it narrowed down to a smallish type of dog – probably a Pekinese or a Lhasa Apso.  In order to sample them, we went to a local mall, where we found an overpriced pet shop.  We played with the puppies for about half an hour, and finally realizing that first, we need a little more research, and second, these puppies really need a bath.  Their matted fur and stinky odor just was a little overwhelming.  <Anyway> we walked away pretty content on our research.  There was a slight itch in my right eye.  At the time, I did not give it a second thought.  That was the start of the glory.

Later that evening, that slight itch had progressed to a somewhat full-blown allergic reaction, where my eye was very itchy and puffy.  It was one of those catch twenty-two situations where if I did not scratch it, it would be excruciatingly itchy, but if I did scratch it, it would get puffier.  <Anyway> whenever I am feeling this way, I get really really, unbelievably irritable.  Cars drive in front of us too slowly, cars drive behind us too closely, people walk in front of us, and people walk in front then stop.  It is just a painful and irritable existence.  We wind up in the neighborhood CVS pharmacy store, and Liz helps me find the Visine A.C.  We shop around the store and pick up a few more items; six to be exact.  We proceed to the checkout and wait on a short, but annoying line.

     The sixteen-year-old-geek (remember I am irritable right now) asks me, “Would you like a bag?”
     “No.  That’s okay, I just want to see if I can carry all this out…juggling,” I answered.

<Okay> I really did not say that, but I wanted to...

The next day, my eye feels much better and is no longer puffy.  I notice that Liz is slightly on the grouchy side.  A part of me feels a little paranoid: Uh oh, is she slipping into her natural state? Is she finally showing her true self? Can it be?  Hold on…hold on.  Breathe.  There.  Nice and Calm.  It is normal for people to cranky once in a while.  Everyone in the world gets a little cranky once in a while – I am too.  Moments later, she apologizes and informs me of the reason why she is a little irritable today.  See?  It was nothing to worry about.

     Later, that evening, I find myself leaving the house on a mission to Tops supermarket.  I proceed and look for my sneakers and a yell comes from another room, “You remember right?  Three things.”
     “Yes…(I list off the three items)”

Moments later, I find myself wandering through the aisles of Tops supermarket.  Finally, I gather the three items that I was to retrieve; a water bottle, Midol, and a box of Always. As I hold onto the three items, I try and hide the last two items behind the first.  Although, it did not totally conceal the Midol and the Always, it covered them somewhat.  Impatiently, I wander back toward the front of the store.  I notice people’s expressions.  They were unpredictable – well, they were the exact opposite as I thought they would be.  I expected women to understand, and men to question.  Instead – it seemed that women giggled with hands over their mouths and quickly turned away when I looked at them, and men empathetically lowered their heads slightly, and gave me a look that spoke: It’ll be alright man.

Finally, I made my way up toward the front and tried to find a line.  Would one believe this?  At any other time, this store would be totally empty with twenty and a half cashiers opened.  But on this particular night, the store was crowded and there were only five cashiers open.  Finally, I made it to a line that read 7 Items or Less.  I was about the eleventh person in line.  There I stood, concealing the items in my hands; women giggling at me, men nodding to me in mournful fashions.  To keep myself preoccupied, I decided to count the items of the people in front of me and find the cheaters of the 7 Items or Less line.  <Okay> most of them checked out, but the guy directly in front of me did NOT.  He was a Mr-8-item-in-a-7-items-or-less-line-cheater.

Moments later, it is now my turn to place items on the conveyor belt.  This is the moment of truth.  I am man enough.  Any guy can proceed through a crowded supermarket with other embarrassing items, such as a box of condoms, but it takes a REAL man to buy women’s menstrual products.

So, there I was going to place the items, but guess what?  Mr-8-item-in-a-7-items-or-less-line-cheater decides to hang back while his groceries proceed to the cashier without him, and blocking me from placing my items up.  What was he waiting for?  What was the hold up?  Geez, his groceries were so far away now, one needed binoculars to see them.  Does he not understand the protocol?  He is supposed to follow his groceries.  Does he not understand that ownership of groceries starts when one takes them off the store shelf and proceeds all the way until it reaches home?  Apparently, not here.  He slowly fumbles around and finds his wallet and then starts walking toward the register.  Oh, I understand now, Mr-8-item-in-a-7-items-or-less-line-cheater cannot walk and look for his wallet at the same time.  I would hate to hand him a stick of gum (old joke).

<Okay> I finally place my items up and with the attention of the whole line on my delayed-placed-on-conveyor-belt-items because of Mr-8-item-in-a-7-items-or-less-line-cheater, I hold my head up high and with dignity, fumble for my wallet, walk at the same time, and follow my items onward toward the register.

     “Would you like a bag?”

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