Monday, February 15, 2010

Plan B: A reserved, secondary plan, in case a first plan fails

As in: Guitar Guy is only 24 years old, so it's on to Plan B. 

Yep, that's right.  He was born over a decade after I was, and is actually closer to my 14-year-old daughter's age than mine.  How do I know this?  Because I looked him up in an online public records search, of course.  Don't you do that? 

Okay, so on to Plan B.  I was doing a little research on everyday places to meet men, and not suprisingly, the grocery store (or "market" as many urban bloggers seem to call it) is at the top of the list.  Guess what day is allegedly the best for man trolling?  Monday.  Today is Monday, and it happens to be a pretty good hair day, as well.  I wish yesterday's headache wasn't back. Is it meaningful that I have only been getting these headaches since I've started to think about talking to men?  You decide.  I'll just pop a couple of Advil (circle with an R in it) and I'll be just fine.

I usually shop in Garner, which as most of you reading this know, is a suburb of Raleigh.  Now, maybe I'm wrong, but it is my thinking that the suburbs are chock (chalk?) full of married men who are just crazy in love with their wives.  I think that if I am going to do this, I should find a "market" closer to downtown.  There is a Fresh Market (another circle with an R in it) just around the way from my office.  Sounds like a good place to try this out.  Everything in there is overpriced, sort of healthy, and mighty tasty; a set of facts that could lead one to believe that the shoppers there are likely to have a good job, a good body, and good taste. 

Now for the pièce de résistance: what do I say to Mr. Handsome with the stuffed flounder for one in his cart?  Do I ram bump into him with my cart?  Wait, I won't have a cart.  I can't really afford to shop there, so I'll just have one of those little baskets.  Maybe I'll ask him if the flounder (organic soda pop, whole grain doughnuts) that he has in his cart is any good.  Ooooh!  I know.  I could grab a dozen uppity brown eggs and carry them around in my basket and then (this is an all or nothing trick) when I see Mr. Handsome I can accidentally drop my basket and my eggs will break and it will just be a mess.  Who wouldn't come over and help me, or at least look my way and chuckle at my misfortune?  Maybe I should think about it a little more.

I'll let you know what happens tomorrow.

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