A snack Bear Grylls would love

Yesterday, my wife and I made a trip to Sam’s Club. One of the joys of going to Sam’s, aside from the free samples they hand out, is the free sample machine. It is a stand-alone electronic kiosk that doles out free samples of whatever product they choose when you scan your card. The majority of the time, all the free samples have been given away when I get there, leaving me empty-handed and broken-hearted.

This time, I was lucky enough to have made it while there were still some samples left. (Sadly, the usual sample passer-outers were nowhere in sight.) The sample this week was a Clif Bar. I scanned my card for the first free treat, then scanned my wife’s card for a second. (Don’t worry, this is totally legal.) Seeing as I typically go to Sam’s hungry, this was a welcome relief. I ripped open the package and tore into the 2 bite sample.

I don’t know if you have ever tried a Clif Bar. I had not up to this point. I think they are marketed for outdoorsy type people, who like to hike and camp and whatnot. Now I know why. These things taste exactly like what you would expect to eat if you were stuck on the side of a cliff, foraging for something, anything to eat, just to keep yourself alive. I commented this to my wife, as I painfully devoured the second and last bite of this life saving “treat.”

As I tried to swallow the dry, bark-tasting, chocolate covered bar, I found myself now in need of a river or something from which to sip some water to choke it down. Oh, to be hiking up the side of a mountain with a stream running down the side, as you make your way to a pristine waterfall, having ignored the “Trail is difficult” warning.

As we left Sam’s, with me trying to get some moisture back in my throat, my wife turns to me and says, “Here. I’ll leave this in your car. That way, you can have a snack if you die.”

Thanks.

A model of efficiency

I had to run to the grocery store. Most of my runs to the grocery are late night runs. Usually of the, “Oh s#!+. We need milk for tomorrow,” nature. Tonight, it was more of an, “Oh s#!+. We need milk for tomorrow,” nature.

My brother is staying with us for a while, so he went with me. (He says it’s for work…) As we were walking in, we were talking about how this particular grocer isn’t open 24 hours since their remodel. Which is dumb. Considering most of my grocery runs are late night, “I need milk.” Or, “I need trash stickers.” (We have to buy these little stickers to put on our trash or they won’t take it. I always forget. It’s always a pain in my ass.)

The I remembered. I need trash stickers.

We walk in, and I pass by the convenient milk display they have in the middle of the store. How convenient. We were headed to the back corner of the store. If I grab the milk now, I’ll have to carry it all the way through the store and back. On the other hand, if I wait to get the milk, I’ll have to walk 10 feet past the self checkout and back. I picked up the milk right then.

We make it to the back corner, my milk in hand. Then I remember I need bread. But it’s all the way on the other end of the store, I think. I decide that I’d pick it up if we walked by it. But I wouldn’t go out of my way. I don’t need it tonight.

We didn’t pass the bread. I’ll be going back in a day or two for bread.

The fun thing about the trash stickers: you have to buy then at the U-Scan. From the attendant. One problem. There was no attendant. I walked to the only open, manned checkout aisle. It just happened to be right in front of the convenient milk display. Shut up, Jeremy.

I set my milk down and ask for trash stickers. At this point, the mousy man who had been milling about at the end of the checkout aisle disappeared. The checkout guy said, “You have to buy those at the U-Scan.” “There was no one at the U-Scan. That’s why I came here,” I replied. I’m pretty sure I said it out loud. But I’m not 100% sure.

I took my milk and headed to the U-Scan. There stood the mousy man. He was busy scanning bottles of water. Repeatedly. I don’t know. He’s an odd, squirrelly man. “I just need some trash stickers,” I implore. He looked at me, nose twitching. “You’ll have to go get one of those registers started,” he squeaks. Why he couldn’t just ring me up for the stickers he has to pull from his drawer at his main register, I have no idea. I do as he says. I walk to one of the registers. Hit “Start Scanning.” Say, “I need 3 trash stickers.” Then pay and walk back to Mr. Rodent-Man to fetch my trash stickers so I could be on my way.

As I walk towards my brother, and the exit, he shoots me one of those looks that older brothers give. Those with older brothers know what I mean.

So, yeah. Planning ahead for shopping is a waste of time.

How we entertain ourselves while mom shops