Did a little “Happy Hour at Home” situation with a girlfriend yesterday (drink wine, eat, talk, and cackle while the kiddos play in the back yard happily? YES PLEASE,) So I rolled into the local BBQ joint to pick up some to-go for us.
It went a little something like this:
Me: ::staring blankly at board, mouth gaping and eyes squinting::
Owner behind counter: ::approaches register while watching for visual cue that I am ready to order::
Me: “Sorry, I am just suffering from option anxiety today….”
Owner: “Ha ha – I haven’t heard that before…. I will have to use it.” (really!? You haven’t heard that? Option anxiety is a constant struggle for me. I use that term on the regular.)
Me: “I’ll do a half pound of the brisket, a pint of mac and cheese, and a pint of potato salad. Do you think that is enough for two women who like to eat?”
Owner: “Well, maybe – but what you could do is add on a side of hot links…”
Me: “ oh no – we don’t like the sausage.. Not just your sausage, we don’t do anybody’s sausage, we aren’t sausage kind of ladies.”
::Crickets::
Me: “no no… that sounded like I was making a whole different kind of statement then I meant to. We like the…. We are married ladies… we have husbands… we….”
Owner: :::mouth opens. Nothing comes out. Face turns red.:::
Me: “Let’s just add a half pound of the pork too.”
Owner: “ yeah, that is probably best.”
I should come with a warning label or something.
“Warning – awkwardness of woman is much larger than it appears.”
Just sayin’.
Reluctantly Suburban 