Hot Date

I have a theory–a double theory, really– that for any topic you can name, there is either an X-Files episode or a Jonathan Richman song about it

From When I Say ‘Wife’ by Jonathan Richman:

When I say ‘wife’
it’s cause I can’t find another word
for the way we be
but ‘wife’ sounds like you’re mortgaged
‘wife’ sounds like laundry

I’m a wife. I was planning on never being a wife, but here I am. “Wife” had always sounded like laundry to me too, back in those days when I was planning to never be one.

I pictured going blind trying to distinguish between black and navy blue socks in order to match them up; I pictured having to learn how to starch and/or iron. When I said “wife” I imagined Friday night casseroles, yard work on Saturday mornings, and uncomfortable, too-warm clothes that made me pass out in church on Sundays.

Then I got a career that ran nights and weekends and a boyfriend who both cooked and did laundry (not to mention, kept his socks to a respectable black or white only). And “wife” started to look like a giant mystery to me. If it wasn’t what I had always believed it to be, then what was it?

I decided to find out.

One of the common misconceptions that people have is that romance dies once you become married. The way to combat this, according to all the magazines, is to have Date Night. The importance of hiring a babysitter is stressed, and you should put on cologne and pantyhose and drive far away to pay too much money for dinner and a show. In our jobs, both CC and I assist in providing the entertainment for everybody else’s Date Night, so that doesn’t really appeal to us.

Besides, he gets really grumpy if you ask him to wear pantyhose on his day off.

So we have Date Morning.

Every Friday we have our standing hot date. I took all of these pictures to prove how hot our dates are because nobody believes me.

We start by getting dressed up:

I'm ready.
I’m ready.

Then we go to the bank for grocery money. Yeah, we’re going grocery shopping. Because grocery shopping is hot.

When we get to the teller, CC turns on his charm.

CC: She’s so mean to me, Rita. At home, she makes me call her “mistress”.

Well, I am wearing leather.

He will repeat this joke to every teller that passes within earshot. If there are some that don’t pass by and miss it, he’ll make sure to go see them at their desks on the way out.

Our next stop is the Farmer’s Market.

These same magazines that specify how you’re supposed to do Date Night also make a Big Deal about Farmer’s Markets. They refer to seasonal, outdoor markets that are supposedly a great savings and if you don’t frequent them you are killing both your family and your community, not to mention your soul and probably a couple of kittens somewhere.

In New Jersey, those types of farmer’s markets are subsidized by the State and sell produce that may or may not be “organic”, and may or may not have had pesticides sprayed all over them, but are most definitely about FOUR TIMES the cost of anything at the grocery store. I’ve got five kids and I figure I’m already supporting those markets through my taxes.

The farmer’s market that gets us all hot & bothered- and I DO mean hot & bothered- is year-round inside a zero-frills building.

If you’re one of my kids, you may want to stop reading here to avoid thoughts that you can’t unthink later.

Although they tell me at the entrance that I’m not welcome there, they never actually check. It does make me a little nervous, which only adds to the excitement.

No thank you, alcoholic.
No thank you, alcoholic.

You know how when you go to Whole Foods you walk out with only one teeny paper bag even though you laid out like eighty frickin’ bucks? The farmer’s market is the total inverse of that. A full cart rarely tops out over forty dollars, which I have to admit makes me more than a little breathless. Plus they have all of this:

Celery Knob
I swear to you here, on a pile of kittens, the sign for this item reads “Celery Knob”
potato. . .sack
potato. . .sack

(C’mon, I can’t be the only one who thought that.)

Feeling lucky?
Feeling lucky?
I forgive your errant apostrophe because of your errant "h".
I forgive your errant apostrophe because of your errant “h”.

By the time we check out, our minds are full of images of lewd produce and thongs.  We’re thinking about testing out the window tinting in the backseat of the minivan.

Next to the farmer’s market is the “meat” market where you can get your Santeria supplies. I think it’s kind of lame that one might buy one’s goat eyeballs and rooster hearts at market, but it is nice to know the resource is there if you need it in a pinch. (The only reason I didn’t get pictures of those particular items is that it smells really bad. Which is why nobody ever buys any eating-meat there.)

Chickens have neither fingers nor paws, people
Chickens have neither fingers nor paws, people

What more excitement can there possibly be after being around all that suggestive produce, lingerie, and “meat”?

Well. . .Plenty.

You, Flock of Seagulls. You know why we're here?
You, Flock of Seagulls. You know why we’re here?*

Because there’s Fairway, newly opened near us.

Oh, Fairway. *sigh* When I think about you, I just. . .

We know why you're here. Get a room!
We know why you’re here. Get a room!

 Fairway is all of your grocery dreams come true. Even if you think you don’t have any grocery dreams.

Because you totally do.

I am very sleepy and have always wanted a kitten. Can I borrow your kid for a minute?
I am very sleepy and have always wanted a kitten. Can I borrow your kid for a minute?

All my grocery store fantasies are here. Fresh-baked chocolate croissants. Cheese samples. Eleventy-billion types of cold-pressed olive oil with store-baked baguettes for sampling. At this point in the date, it’s all I can do to keep my mind on the grocery list. The store isn’t exactly helping. It’s like they want us to be inappropriate right there in the aisles or something.

That's so sweet.
Wait. How did they know his pet name?
You're not helping, coupon.
You’re not helping, coupon.
Smackin’ Whip? Hmm.

Even Costco is in on it. And I feel like I should remind you once again that these are actual pictures from an actual hot date.



This picture makes it look as if his member were handicapped, which I assure you is not the case.
This picture makes it look as if his member were handicapped, which I assure you is not the case.

With great effort, we refrain from putting up that”Sorry, this lane closed” sign and spending a little quality time together right there on the checkout counter. Even though I see it as exactly the same as a “Do Not Disturb” sign, CC reminds me that this would be a pretty ridiculous reason to get arrested and that besides, the only kid who would have enough money to bail us out is #1, and she probably wouldn’t do it because she’s saving all her money to get away from us.



*update: I just found out at dinner last night that my Flock of Seagulls reference is yet one more joke that I make to CC all the time that he doesn’t get, and yet has never said anything about. Even though he took #1 to see Pulp Fiction while she was an infant. So for him, I give you this link. The Flock of Seagulls line isn’t until about 2:00 in, but it’s a great scene.

Oh, there’s also a Jonathan Richman song called Abominable Snowman in the Market, thereby double-proving my theory.


38 thoughts on “Hot Date

  1. I want to come shopping in your town! New Jersey has all the good stuff, chicken paws! Our date nights are the night when the kid goes to her dads house and so the boyfriend and I get to watch a grown up movie on Netflix (and by grown up movie I mean a documentary, not a porno) and eat at the Indian place. We’re wild, I tell you.

    1. That IS pretty wild. You never know what’s gonna happen when you have Indian. By the way, if you haven’t seen it, you MUST go watch Dave Grohl’s Sound City documentary. Un-f’ing believable. You will dig it!

      1. We just watched it a couple of weeks ago. It was great! AND… did you hear? Foo Fighters are inducting Rush into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame!

  2. This made me lol repeatedly. Lately My hot date night is being conned into taking a 20 minute motorcycle ride in the freezing cold to “get things going”… then watching ” the devils ride” with the hubby… the goal being to keep my mouth shut when I get the urge to tell him that these dudes are clearly accountants and construction workers during the day. All while having frostbite. Awesome

  3. Well, apparently I wouldn’t be welcome at your Farmer’s Market either. This post is awesome in so many ways — I love it. And thank you for the pingback!!! At least I think it’s called a pingback 😉

  4. I was wondering why they wanted you to use a thong… what are we supposed to do, slingshot those rolls out of there?

    When I was a kid, I had a fantasy of being left to my own devices in a grocery store, over night. But I got over that once I started working at a grocery store, and realized that I may have overestimated the up-side, probably because the giant rack of bouncy-balls didn’t last, as a “draw.”

    1. Slingshotting dinner rolls with a thong. . .I think I just decided on our new serving procedure at the table. You know what’s funny? I used to work at a grocery store too and I kind of forgot about it until I read your comment.

  5. You seriously CRACK ME UP — my absolute fave was the awesomely lewd potato sack. Wow, that’s a little morning delight, right? I only wish my husband would go grocery shopping with me … it would be so HOT!

  6. Yesss. Can I please pretend to be someone’s unattended child?

    This was so chock full ‘o awesomesauce and errant apostrophes, I don’t know where to start, but I think my favorite line was, “Besides, he gets really grumpy if you ask him to wear pantyhose on his day off.”

    I think my most memorable grocery store experience was when I ran to the store, and an elderly woman was pushing her cart around, normally, full make-up, jewelry, lovely blouse and shoes… No pants.

  7. “Honey Balls Strufoli” will now be my go-to nickname for any mobster. Period.

    Thanks for explaining your Flock of Seagulls reference. My little sister had the hair, so that’s the association I always get.

    Fairway has a special cart for “members”? Talk about full service. And optimism to think many guys would need a cart, given the average, er…size. From what I hear. Never mind.

  8. Your Costco has the same arrows as our Costco!

    Shopping is never the hot date for us, Mr O HATES shopping. I think it is cultural. I can’t seem to convince him that shopping is the 21st century version of going out and hunting down a gazelle or two.

  9. Shopping could be really sexy. You just provided proof. I’ll have to consider the next time hubby and I go on a date. We’re long overdue! Who says it must be at night. We’re usually too tired then anyway.

Comment. It gives me a reason not to clean my house.

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