Flapnation, I ask you:
When have you ever been able to cut the sexual tension with a knife in Hannafords?
It happened to me. This is my Flap.
Yes, this a post- Valentines day wrap-up--a general session of mild ill will towards this holiday that seems directed at working class folks who have allowed cable TV to "wither their genitals" (always be prepared for Simpsons refs with me). I got my first whiff of recollection that this clumsy holiday had returned last Saturday in the supermarket. And I do mean a literal whiff. Suddenly, right there in front of the citrus, I get a hit of Chaps, or Polo, or some sort of "Designer" fragrance available only at Walgreens. It shot right up my nose;I glance around and see a gruff--dare I say, chapped? working class dude in his Carharts, his maw wrapped around a bundle of hothouse flowers ensconced in cellophane, devoid of all fragrance. But like I said, he already had the fragrance covered.
Then, after noticing him, I pulled back a bit, let my gaze settle over the whole produce section and damn, if the store wasn't a mini-version of the Depot Scene from Gone With the Wind*--you know the one where the camera keeps pulling back, revealing more and more wounded soldiers? But instead of a forlorn Taps solo playing, I think Hannafords was playing "Evil Woman" by ELO.
All around me were gruff Carhart-clad dudes dutifully buying the ten dollar bouquets, some with a side-kick in the form of a teenage son. I realized that my buddy Rebeca would be so tickled if she were with me then. It's her favorite part of V-Day, going to a supermarket and watching the dudes buy the ugly bouquets. And those dudes really threw me off my stride. I normally charge in there on Saturday mornings during the A-man's karate hour, throwing all my junk in the cart just like the other Saturday marketing regulars. We all move about in an orderly fashion, knowing our purpose, navigating with ease. Not so, this V-Day Saturday. The befuddled male masses threw everyone off their game, clogging the aisles with their confusion over what nice things they should be picking up. To quote that fat asshole who runs the railway on the Isle of Sodor: "You are causing confusion and delay!"
And oh god, we all know what it's like when men shop even under non-holiday duress. I had experienced a classic just a few days ago. Flap-man said he would pick up a few items while the A-man was at karate. Even though we were out of milk, and really just needed a few perishables like lettuce, he returned with six cans of tuna, a half gallon of chocolate soy milk, a box of frozen fish stix for dinner and a mini-party pack of fresh shrimp, all clinging to this black plastic wheel thing, under a big plastic dome lid, with a plastic cup of cocktail sauce in the middle.
"Uh, honey, we won't be hosting Bridge Club for another 25 years, why the shrimp ring?"
"I thought we could just start eating it right away while the fish stix cook!"
"OK! Asked and answered!"
All this took place on Thursday, which was also the night that we needed to get our children's Valentines in order. I was getting nervous about creating approximately 40 valentines with the three pieces of pink construction paper I was able to dig up. Plus this household has never met a glue stick that wasn't shriveled up like Napoleon's dessicated penis. Did I mention is was just past 7:30?? No supplies, no energy, no time...I knew making them was never going to work, but I was really feeling for my kiddies. How stressful is it to realize that it's the night before and YOU DON'T HAVE ANY VALENTINES OR VALENTINES FIXIN'S AND SUPPLIES? I knew we were doomed when I showed the A-man the suggested size heart we needed to work with if all the valentines were going to be made with the three pieces of construction paper. He got so pissed! "Who wants a valentine that size? NOBODY!" he says as he dramatically tossed it on the ground. Because he had the true Valentine spirit, which is, make a nice, giant Valentine for your friend. Singular.
Why do we (the societal We) insist on hedging out any risk of our children experiencing emotional pain? I refer to the classroom rule about each child needing to give a valentine to the entire class if they chose to participate. It's so stupid! Kids aren't friends with every classmate at the Valentine level! And it sucks all your energy to pound out all those damn Valentines, when it's natural to just want to make one for the couple-few FRIENDS that you actually have. But it turns out I was destined to fight this one on my own, for not only was Bob fried from the karate/market combo errand, he was having an allergic reaction to that stupid shrimp ring. Witness:
7:45. Thursday evening. The night before the school Valentines exchange/orgy of red dye #2"
"Oh sweetie, it looks like you got pinkeye!"
"Nah, it's just the shrimp--remember, I'm allergic!"
"Christ. You need to take some Benedryl."
So there we were: 7 somethin' going on late, fish sticks in the oven, shrimp ring gone, my husband passed out upstairs, looped out on benedryl. There was only one thing to do:
"Get in the car, kids, we're goin' to th'Choppa."
Price Chopper that is. The "other" supermarket in town. The one I don't frequent because it totally smells like ass in there. But it's the perfect place to head while under duress, somehow.
We pull up, walk through the haze of cig smoke that's always lingering in the entryway, nod to the toothless greeter with the tight ponytail and mascara that makes her eyes look like two pissholes in the snow, and make our way to the now scantily stocked "Seasonal" aisle. They had condensed all the remaining valentines into one small box. Just let this sink in: these were the Valentines that even Choppa-Shoppas had rejected. But my kids were handling it well. A-man pleaded initially to head back to the school and grab a glue stick and a few more pieces of construction paper, but gave up quickly when he saw I wasn't gonna play. Besides, we needed milk!
Littlest flapper picked a Disney Princess trio-themed box. It was either that or the wretched Bratz dolls. It was called a "kit" because it came with stinky red lollipops I could smell through the box. Archie had more choices, cartoon network characters that none of us recognized, Superman, Spiderman, Cars, and Kung Fu Panda. He chose Kung Fu Panda. We trundled off, after grabbing the milk, and running into a woman in the dairy section I tangentially know who always engages me in useless conversation. But she always manages to bring this one subject up every time, so it's kinda fun to see how she's going to introduce it each time we run into each other. Ask me offline if you want to know what it is.
So we make it home, Flap man snoring softly upstairs, floating gently in his antihistamine-induced haze."hey, I think to myself, at least we didn't end up in the emergency room. "There's always something worse than the Choppa, right?
*I could have also used a "The Birds" analogy here, but it just wasn't that sinister.
