The Guy in the Bread Aisle

So two days ago I packed up the kids and headed off to Giant. Grocery shopping with my kids is always an adventure filled with Indiana Jones-like dodging and weaving and an endless string of "'no, we're not getting that.' 'Stop touching things.' & 'Stay next to me.'" Good times.

Anyway, we were facing a drastic shortage of milk and Cheerios (and possibly cheese) so we bundled up and headed out to Giant. Now, I didn't think this was going to be a big deal since it was morning, on a weekday and we weren't anticipating snow or nasty weather. I have discovered in my almost 9 years of mothering that it's best to hit the grocery store during the week when a lot of people are working or taking their kids to school. Fewer people = faster shopping trip = happy mommy.

Little did I know this was not going to work on this particular shopping trip. That's right, unbeknownst to me, I had just entered....the Superbowl zone. Dun, dun, dun.

Yep. Apparently there is a big ol' sporting event happening this weekend. And also apparently it can only be celebrated correctly with copious amounts of chips, salsa, frozen pizza and cheese. And further apparently men do not trust their wives to purchase the correct quantity and quality of Superbowl snackage. So, this one week of the year men descend upon grocery stores like hungry bears preparing for winter.

Which I would find really, really humorous...if they weren't all in Giant at one time and if they understood the basic etiquette of grocery shopping. That's right, boys, there are rules to grocery shopping. For example, a grocery aisle is like a road. You drive your cart down one side of the aisle...not down the middle. And when you get to the end of the aisle you must stop and look both ways before proceeding...you don't push your cart full of Cheetos and Budweiser right into the path of oncoming cart traffic. And you don't chit chat (or whatever the appropriate male term for chit chat is) on your cell phone all through the store. Distracted shopping isn't cool, dude.

So, all of that is neatly presented to my friend, The Bread Aisle Guy. The guy who parked his cart on one side of the aisle, then stood in the middle of the aisle, chatting away on his cell phone while he bent over, thus taking up the other side of the aisle as well, to study a box of muffins like it held the answer to life on Mars.

Do I sound bitter? I'm not bitter. Honestly, if I had been kid-free I would have immensely enjoyed the slightly dazed look on the faces of all the men who, when they said they were going to get supplies for "the Game," were unexpectedly handed an additional shopping list from wives and mothers...you know, "since you're going anyway."

So consider this a friendly warning about Superbowl week. Treat it like a blizzard...stock up before the testosterone driven chip frenzy strikes.