Peppermint Patty has PMS

So, Saturday I had to go to the grocery to get some eggs. I had the woolies for my wasabi deviled eggs (which btw, I still haven't made yet). Of course, while I was there I was overcome with some sort of shopping fever and was compelled to buy more food than we needed. This included a trip to the deli counter to get some cod cuts. I also had my once a year craving for liverwurst. Let's see, wasabi deviled eggs and liverwurst. If I didn't already know my period was 4 days late I might think I managed to become sperminated. But, I have already taken three pregnancy tests (all negative) because I've been itching to take some codeine for my back. So, ruling out pregnancy, I can say for certain that I'm just PMS eating . . . . hopefully.

The Hubs was with me sporting his new red and white Giants Superbowl jersey which completely managed to throw off the deli guy. It started with a simple "Can I help you?" and before I could even get out my request for a half pound of muenster he was all over The Hubs like white on rice. "Where'd you get that jersey?"

Now, I'll pause to explain. They sell this jersey at Bob's and Modell's. However, The Hubs, having the ability to squeeze a quarter until the eagle screams, got it from his friend who does merchandising. The jersey was actually imported from Hong Kong for about $30 less than the $75 they charge at Modell's. Whether or not it's a fake is up for debate although The Hubs will try and point out its authenticity to me constantly. Like I care. I carried around a fake Louis Vitton while my mom sold fake Rolexes to my field hockey coaches for most of high school. So, why The Hubs can't just say, for the sake of explaning, that he got it at Modelle's is beyond me.

Deli Guy, is so enthralled by The Hub's cheapness that he's just standing there with the brick of muenster slung over his shoulder. Hey pal, you wanna slice that or should I just get some bread and make a grilled cheese right here?

After a while, he slices it. All the while talking football with The Hubs while I eye the deli case wondering how long it's going to take me to get three packs of cold cuts. God, don't let my bologna order start a chat about March Madness. Honestly, I was drowning out the conversation. Most conversations regarding sports get absorbed into my brain like math equations.

Deli Guy hands me the muenster and says TO ME, "Anything else, sir?"

Okay. I know my hair was wet and my coat was bulky. But, I'd like to think despite that, someone can tell I am female.

"Um, a half pound of bologna." I try to catch The Hub's eyes so I can mouth "what the fuck? Sir?" But he's too busy chatting up his new friend.

Deli Guy hands me the bologna. "Anything else, sir?"

I'm starting to think he must just be so focused on The Hubs that I don't exist. I am just a female afterall. And I did almost shriek in horror when he first offered low salt bologna.

"Um, a half pound of liverwurst" I manage not to say the last part which was going to sound something like this, "FOR MY OVARIES WHICH ARE TELLING ME I MUST EAT THIS SHIT BECAUSE I AM A FEMALE AND AS A FEMALE I GET PMS."

"Here you go, sir. Have a nice day" as he hands me the packaged liverwurst.

I walk away staring at The Hubs in shock while telling him that from now on to just tell people he got the jersey at Modell's or Bob's than explain the Bong Kong connection. I'm still baffled.

We walk over to CVS and as the guy at the register is ringing me up he compliments The Hubs on his jersey and asks where he got it. Of course, forgetting what I just told him on the SHORT walk over, he launches into the story about his friend and merchandising and getting this from Hong Kong for a deal.

I was waiting for this guy to become so focused on The Hubs that he's the only one he sees in the room. I start to think he too might start showing signs of pulsating purple hearts rather than pupils. I'm waiting for the "here's your change, sir." But there would be no mistaking me this time. This time I had a basket full of Combos and EPT pregnancy tests. Mistake that, bitch.