Daytons....

Daytons …

After work today my father and I sat in traffic in order to get to Macy's in downtown Minneapolis. I needed to get a bridal shower gift for a cousin who is to be wed in January. And there was apparently some big deal going that I was unaware of until I was handing over my State I.D. and current credit card so that I could get a Macy’s credit card to save lots and lots of money.  While we were waiting for the sales lady who was so wonderful and patience and amazing to look up the kitchen aid mixer that my dad insisted on getting today, my dad kept finding more things to purchase. First comes the frango mints, no complaints there, no sir-e. Then comes a package of colorful knives. Then he decided I should finally get the iron I’ve been wanting for years and he offers to pay for half, can’t go wrong there. Then comes the microwave oven, which is on the clearance rack and is box less. So we open the little door, check that it has a broil selection like the other ones and I play with the rest of the knobs. Well the little knob that says dark medium light lighter unbeknowist to me is a timer and of course I have turned it alllllllll the way to dark. So we giggle to ourselves because there are lots of frantic customers running about. So after a few minutes pass and more people seem to be cramming around the tiny little register that we have been hanging around for the better part of an hour, the timer goes off with a loud “ding” as timers tend to do. Dad and I just lose it with hysterical laughing.  And I as I am about to explain to some slightly disgruntled shoppers that I may or may not have accidently played the knobs, dad yells “Pies done! Better take it out!” And we lose it again, can’t breathe from more hysterical laughing. What makes this story better and our laughing louder is that nobody, absolutely nobody thought it was funny. All we received were some dirty looks and some upturned noses, hahahaha.  So of course I can’t pass up an awkward moment and I say maybe slightly louder than I should have in between giggles “Guess that wasn’t funny”. But ya know what when silly old ladies who are spending lots of money think they can be snobby and mean we have every right to be as silly as possible and make friends with the sales lady. And we did just that, along with raking up a bill somewhere along the lines of cinco benjamines. Take that bitches, stuff that in your rotting mink coat from 1973.

Merriweather