What do you do when grandma unexpectedly whisks your kiddo away for an overnighter?
(with these two Toby Keith fans… I understand pizza, donuts, and Hot Wheels are also involved. Anyone else taking bets on how thrilled Itty Bit is going to be to come home?)
You strap on your personal firearm and you go meet a Craigslist seller.
What? You don’t?
Now this girl has been a Craigslist believer for awhile now. Remember this particular score?
(Let me clearly state that this is a BEFORE picture of the day we brought her home. The AFTER picture is below. I want to cry when I look at both).
But I am also all about safety.
I Google the snot out of every seller, I ask a million questions, meetings are in public places and attended by my well-armed husband.
So when we had a chance to save some major $$$, my cute date strapped his sidearm on and we hit the road to meet a guy selling one of these:
Grabbing a table at Starbucks, we started testing the gear. At one point, Mr. Daddy gave Mr. Seller some friendly advice to face me while he was talking so that I could read his lips.
OH EM GEE.
Mr. Seller suddenly decided that the fact that I’d been answering every question appropriately and speaking normally to him was not enough. He began prefacing every statement with looking at Mr. Daddy and saying, “Tell her..”
I’m sitting right here dude. Watching you say, “Tell her…tell her… tell her…” and plastering a smile on my face while Mr. Daddy tells you, “it’s fine… she’s really good at lipreading. She’s got it”.
After he says it for the eleventieth time, Mr. Daddy gives him a sideways grin and says, “If I hadn’t told you, you probably wouldn’t have even known she was deaf.”
Turns out the guy had more questions for me about my equipment than I did about his.
So the guy left the coffee shop a little richer and one lens lighter. We stayed a bit and laughed at how people suddenly talk as if I’m not there when they discover I cannot hear. Remember this woman?
Then Mr. Daddy decided to demonstrate the fine talent of drinking a caffeinated beverage sans hands.
He’s a keeper, I tell ya.
Then we detoured to exact revenge for Best Buy’s refusal to honor their price match four years ago. I don’t hold a grudge or anything…
We walked out with a big bad memory card for 40% off, booyah!
And the next stop was right up Mr. Daddy’s alley:
(We sure know how to rock a date night, right?)
Ostensibly to look for a gun for the WIFE.
Yeah, he’s a genius, right?
In all fairness, this chick is working toward shooting something a bit more deterring to the criminal element than a Canon.
After pointing guns at walls for the better part of an hour, the O Garden was next on the list.
Typical phone capture of a carb-loader interrupted:
And truly, the point of this whole post was to do some damage control because I knew that husband of mine would blog it otherwise.
IN MY DEFENSE: I didn’t want to waste anything. So, I mean, I did what everybody does… I just didn’t time it right.
So Ken and Barbie and their 2.5 kids in trendy outfits were sitting kitty-corner from us. Seriously, the guy was like a less hirsute skinnier version of Hugh Jackman, and the wife was this tiny Kelly Ripa thing.
I was doing so good… avoiding the bread, boxing up half my meal, turning down dessert.
Except, that marsala sauce was staring at me from the plate. And you know… my wallet was saying, “girl, you know that was $16 marsala sauce. You’d better get your money’s worth”.
(Your food doesn’t talk to you?)
Mr. Daddy totally knew what was coming. I mean, you remember our restaurant spit wad wars, right? He knows that “public humiliation” is totally subjective.
Especially when it comes to $16 marsala sauce.
So I used my fork to “transport” the majority of the sauce. Except, I suddenly realized that that yummo stuff was starting to leak over the edge of the plate.
So I took care of it.
As in… lifted my plate up, and ahem licked it off while turning the plate.
Seriously folks… it was a thing of precision and efficiency.
Except. Mid-lick, with the plate still over my head… I made eye-contact with shaven skinny Hugh Jackman.
Who was totally staring.
And who immediately burst into unsuccessfully stifled loud laughter.
I sat there in growing horror with my eyes wide and sauce on my chin.
I ducked my head and turned… to meet the eyes of my husband who had.seen.everything.
By this point, Kelly Ripa was baffled by the apparent inside joke that was occurring between her husband (whose shoulders were heaving with silent laughter) and the completely red-faced girl at Table 4. Except, she didn’t realize that it was Mr. Daddy in on it too.
The two men exchanged several wordless looks that spoke volumes, and it was clear later that Hugh Jackman filled in his nuclear family about what he had witnessed.
His grade-school daughter kept pointedly giggling at me, while the wife actually seemed a bit annoyed.
The laughter simply would.not.stop; I finally convinced Mr. Daddy to bail from the scene of my humiliation.
I stood to put my coat on and quickly blurted,
“I am SO sorry you had to see that.”
Their table erupted in laughter (well, except for annoyed Kelly Ripa), and my husband then brought the house down.
“I can’t take her ANYWHERE”.
Mr. Daddy hacking in:
See what I mean?
Need I say more?