Clint says I am never allowed to go to Fry’s with him again.  Ever.  I totally think he is over reacting to our experience there.

I am not big into appliances and computer products.  However, I agreed to go and check things out with him.  It all started because of my laptop.  You see, I have this love/hate relationship with my laptop.  I love to hate it.  Yet, I love having it when I need it.  It’s just that it is so old and slow and weighs about 57 pounds (give or take).  To put it into perspective, we bought it before Gabriella was even an idea, let alone a living breathing person.  In computer years, that makes it about 47 years old.  So, it is only natural that I would long for a new laptop.  A shiny, pretty, fast one that won’t throw my back out whenever I carry it to lovely little coffee shops when I write. 

How does he expect me to act when it takes me to a store that has ROWS of shiny, skinny laptops?

Apparently he did not expect me to run up and down the aisles licking them all and grabbing up the most lucsious ones to rub up and down all over my body.  Hey, it’s not like they bolt those laptops down or anything!  They have those great retractable chords attached to them for just this reason. They expect people to do that!  They understand that people like me will shove them down their blouses and rub them against their flesh! 

He thinks I acted inappropriately.  He thinks that I exhibited an inappropriate public display of affection towards an electronic device.  (As if!)

After I was forced away from the rows and rows of glorious laptops, I managed to regain some control of myself and my behavior.

Until we came upon the washer and dryer that were sent from the god of all things laundry.  That washing machine will wash 16 (SIXTEEN) pairs of jeans in one load.  SIXTEEN!  And that dryer?  Look at the gloriousness of that dryer!  I did what any laundry hating woman who finds her salvation sitting right there in front of her would do.

He seems to think that it was completely out of line for me to strip off all of my clothes and climb into the washing machine (front loading washing machine, I might add) screaming, “SIXTEEN PAIRS OF JEANS, PEOPLE! SIXTEEN!” Personally, I think he was just embarrassed that he didn’t think to do it first.

I just don’t get it.  It’s not like I stole anything.  Some people just really overreact, if you ask me.

So, who wants to go back to Fry’s with me next weekend?

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