New Baby+Going to Target=Hilarity!

Isn't it amazing how much brain power you lose when you have a newborn in the house?

Oh wait. I guess it isn't that amazing. Only getting 20 minute stretches of sleep for a few weeks does a number on oneself.

And with that lack of sleep and decreased brain power, simple sentences are hard to produce.

In the first week or so Hannah was born, I was summoned to run up and get some supplies for Elli as it pertains to nursing the little one. Now, I don't consider breast pads to be along the lines of other feminine products, however I still wasn't overly comfortable with purchasing them. Don't ask me why, it's just because. Anyhow, it was a chance to get out of the house, which anyone who's ever experienced the first few weeks of new babydom, you jump on an opportunity to leave your domicile. So I loaded up Dav and away we went to Target.

I figured the item I needed would be over with the rest of the baby supplies, so we made a line for that area. However, upon getting to that section we discovered that we went at the very time they were in the middle of completely redoing that area. So stuff was patchy on the shelves and what wasn't out yet was loaded into boxes. Not wanting to experience the uncomfortable and awkward encounter that would ensue from asking an associate where the breast pads are, I set upon hunting them down myself. However, after going up and down each aisle about 6 or 7 times, I broke down and decided I needed to bite the bullet and ask. I hunted down an employee, hoping that it wasn't some younger person. But the one I found was just as bad, an older woman happily stocking more bottles on the shelves. The following is the conversation that took place, with the italicised words indicating what my brain was yelling at me while I was stammering on:

Jake: "Can I ask you for some help?"

Sales lady: "Of course, what can I help you find?"

Jake" I'm looking for..."

It is at this point my mind completely blanks out on the proper term for what I'm looking for. Not wanting to completely abandon ship and run away, I stagger on as best as I can:

Jake: "Ummm...I need, uh those things for Mom (Not YOUR mom dumbass! Dav and Hannah's mom!)...I mean, not MY mom! My daughters mom (but also Dav's mom! Make that point obvious so she doesn't think you sleep around with everything that walks and have dozens of illegitimate children), which is also {pointing at Dav} his Mom...

Sales Lady: {smiles somewhat hesitantly, probably wondering what drugs I'm on.}

Jake: "You know, those things that you put on for when {now makes universal va-va-voom gesture and quickly puts hands back down once he realizes he's gesturing boobs in front of an older lady stranger} you're feeding your baby (well she doesn't wear them while she's feeding them moron. How would the baby latch on with a pad in the way?)...I mean, not when she's feeding but when she's not..."

Sales Lady: {sensing great discomfort from me, puts hand on my shoulder and tries not to laugh too hard} "You mean breast pads. They're over here."

Brandon...

In my last post I described an incident that occurred when I ran to get some medicine to help Dav along with one of his ailments. For most people I know, this would've never happened to them, or it would've only been an isolated incident.

Sometimes it pays to live amongst the stupid.

As all kids do, Dav got sick quite a bit when he was first starting out with the whole daycare thing. As such, it seemed we were always dealing with something. Most of the time, our end tables looked kind of like this:

Once Dav's nose started running, it was going for the rest of the month, the next month, and basically lasted until August. Anyhow, it was no surprise that after he got over the illness that caused the incident I mentioned last time he came right back down with something else. So, I once again volunteered to run back up to the store for the goods. After all, something else couldn't go down could it?

(Chh chh chh, shh shh shh, ahh ahh ahh)

So I drive back up to the same store as last time. I park, get to the crosswalk, and make a mad dash for the door to get out of the cursed crosswalk as quick as possible. Once in the store, I get things going mind wise so as to not be caught off guard:

(Let's do this!)

It was a week night, and I took note that there wasn't many people to be had in the store. This time around though, I wasn't just there for the medicinal drink. I had some other items to get, so as I got into the front doors, I grabbed a shopping cart on the way by. I then set off to get the items quickly and efficiently.

All was going well. I was making my way through the rows, having most of the aisles to myself, quickly checking off the list as I got the appropriate item, and the anxiety level over last time was going down. So much so, that I didn't even take note of the loser making his way down the aisle in my direction. This isn't him, but it will give you an idea of what I saw:

(Pseudo "flock of seagulls" hair, Elton John'esque glasses, irrelevant finger point...yup, you're a tool.)

To complete the package, he had his wanna be arm candy, well, on his arm. He was doing that walk where as to say "Check me out and my lady on the arm. I am something." All the while said arm candy was yapping rather loudly on the phone. To give you an idea what she was like, I present this:

(I'm sexy in a way normal people don't understand.)

Anyway, I was paying them no mind. My shopping cart was all the way to the side of the aisle, and I was marveling at how many different choices one has now when attempting to conquer the spice rack. The couple approached and the spunky arm candy came off the arm, and proceeded to pass me first. She was uttering phrases such as "like" and "OMG!" quite frequently. Impressive since I eavesdropped on her conversation for about 4 seconds. But when poser made his way by, he made a point of deviating his line and running into my cart. I was flabbergasted. "Yet another incident is going down over a Pedialyte run?" I thought. But again, I'm not really that confrontational, but when dealing with the galactically stupid, I cannot let things slide. As I've told Elli numerous times, stupid people don't know they're stupid. It's up to people like me to inform them of their stupidness. As such, after the initial shock wore off I commenced to action with the following verbage:

"Easy friend, there's no fire here. No need to push."

At this point, Mr. "Mike 'The Situation' Sorrentino is my hero!" turns and says, "Was up!"

(Seriously, what IS up?)

I don't think of myself as imposing, however I stand close to 6'5" tall. I'm not built like a brick shit house, but I've been told I have a presence. On this particular night, I had on my Carhart stocking hat, a flannel coat, and jeans along with boots. I was tired, probably not clean shaven, and when confronted by this sort of BS, I do get confrontational.

Testosterone both gets people hurt, and hurts people.

As such, I had a popular brand of Paprika in my hand. I let it fall from my hand into the cart, turned rather slowly in poser's direction, and stared at him with everything I had.

"Excuse me?", I bellowed.

At this point arm candy returns, still talking on her phone. She seems to take stock of the situation, and makes a move. Grabbing tool bag's arm, she very directly says to him:

"Brandon. Don't. He'll kill you."

And they retreated rather hastily around the corner and down the way. I chuckled to myself, pushed the cart to checkout, paid, and went home with another story to tell.

And to think, when I was a kid I thought the grocery store was boring.