Blue Monday

Ah, I just didn’t want this weekend to end. Despite my bellyaching, it did involve one trip to Target late on Friday night (well, after 8 p.m.), but that trip was entirely centered around getting some sort of emergency plug-in widget thingy for A.’s computer. It was also after I was in my pjs and had consumed two large glasses of wine that can only be described as big bowls of wine, which left me a little on the drunk side. I didn’t realize this, and failed to de-amplify my behavior and spent the majority of the shopping trip giggling and screaming my way through the store. The low point was when I thought I lost A. in the food section, and when I couldn’t find him hollered, “HONEEEY? Where ARE you anyway? DID YOU LEAVE ME HERE TO DIE IN TARGET?” not unlike the way Caroline Mulford screams for Jake Ryan just before her hair gets shut in the bedroom door. This was followed shortly by: “I WANT TO BUY THIS BEEF STICK.” Except I said it in this kind of generic Slavic accent (“I vont to bie zis beff steck! Joo bie eet now!”) and I waved it around inappropriately at some woman who said, “Um, I think your husband is in the next aisle.” And then I scooped up two big boxes of Target cab/shiraz and loaded ‘em into the cart and insisted that we take them home, along with a pile of Slim Jims.

Which explains why this is in my refrigerator:

That’s four bottles’ worth of wine right in that there box, yo. And I know you’re not supposed to refrigerate red wine, but I like all wine cold. You would too if you were still sweating your ass off in October. And might I add, it’s Target wine. In a box.

Incidentally, we chose the museum/botanical gardens instead of the Jungle Ted’s Wildlife Swampy Pit-type thing, because we were supposed to go to a swamp-cum-local-type event next weekend, although it doesn’t really matter, because now we’re going away and skipping all swamp-related events. And I have completely lost my point, except to say that the botanical gardens turned out to be a big bust because of this:

They are growing a rare type of plant called “yellow tape” and also, “dirt.”

But lo, it was lovely anyway, and it was followed by an evening of boxed wine and Roman Holiday, which is one of my favorite movies of all-time, even though I don’t love Gregory Peck, and secretly wish it had been Cary Grant. Apropos of not much, I will say that Gregory Peck is oddly lucky, if you can call dying lucky, that he died before he could sign on as Grandpa Joe in Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, because what a trainwreck that turned out to be, and I say that as a huge fan of Tim Burton. Except no, just no, that was all wrong, even if it did involve Christopher Lee (why, Chris, why?)

All in all, an utter delight. And we haven’t even discussed weekend kugel but oh, we will.

Duuuuuude. You got any Ramen noodles up in this piece?

*New Order. Blue only because it’s over. Fleh.

**Edited to add that -R- reminded me to mention that of course, my husband was sober while he drove my drunk self to Target.

24 comments October 22nd, 2006