While in Texas, we mooched Mama Hen’s car and drove down to Waco for a teency visit. (Other Wacoans — sorry! We came to see sweet little baby Hood and were there only 24 hours. No time for big visits this time…. catch you next time, friends!) My BFF Britty had a sweet, precious, adorable little baby girl 4 weeks ago and little Emmy needed to meet her Auntie mab. When we were there, all of the kids went to sleep and we abandoned them with our hubbies and went out.
Nope, nothing thrilling. You know that you’re a mom of tiny kids when going to the grocery store with your BFF is considered an outing, not a chore.
In this case, what an outing it was!!!
After we got the stuff we needed, we headed to the check-out. As Britty was paying, the lady behind her was putting stuff up on the conveyor belt. Suddenly, we heard a crash. I looked down to see some liquid and a bunch of glass. I told the cashier that she had dropped a jar of something and they started to call over someone to clean it up.
“IT’S LIME!” the lady who dropped the stuff hollered.
Britty informed us that the spilled item was all over the lady’s shoes and had splashed all over Britty as well. She said it was a bottle of beer.
“IT’S LIME! LIME!” the lady yelled.
By this time, the cashier was on the phone and said “Yeah, we need clean up over here. A lady dropped a bottle of beer.”
“LIME! LIME! IT’S LIME!” she said, with a distinct growl.
She had dropped her lime-flavored beer. As if it made a difference when it was all over the floor, all over her, and all over Britty.
Now our hubbies certainly weren’t going to believe us that we had only been to the grocery store.
We couldn’t figure out why the lady was so adamant about her beer flavoring. If it had been lite, draft, or Mike’s Hard Lemonade, it wouldn’t have really mattered…. it was busted and spilled. I guess she wanted us to know that she was a classy, lime beer drinking lady.
Then, her daughter said “I’ll go get you another case.” Because, you know, the grocery store should have to absorb the cost of the pack of bottles she wasn’t going to buy. It was somehow HEB’s fault. Whatever. I know one thing for sure: They couldn’t sell a 5 pack of beer bottles. So, there were a few managers who took home a few bottles of beer that night.
What’s that you say? It’s not beer? Well, what is it?
(All together, now, my lovelies!)