Caterwauling

I had to make a late-night dash to the grocery store (why do these stores have to close the entrance I always manage to park by? Why can’t all entrances be open at 10 p.m. when I arrive?) and I’ll tell you, I didn’t realize it but I started grooving in the aisles when I heard Stevie Nicks come on over the loudspeaker. Damn, I forgot how good she can make a girl feel.

I have a history of grocery-store groovin’. Mom was dating a store owner/manager/pussy boy one time, and I hated him. He looked like something Buster Poindexter and Frankenstein had given birth to. He drove a little red Corvette, which he loved almost as much as he loved himself. Community members speculated that he’d probably be buried in it.

He was so cheap, a date with him would mean splitting a salad. Which is probably why he never invited me along on any dates with my mom, not that I could look at his bouffant with a straight face. I swear, he had bolts in his neck. His name was Bill — I always called him Buster, Billy Bouff(ant) and Billy Bolts. My grandmother used to just call him Cheap Motherfucker. That worked. 😉

Anyway, when we were in his store, I think the song was “Marry Me Bill” that came on over the loudspeaker. And I dropped everything (I might have been 16 or 18 at the time) from my hands and started doing fan kicks down the aisle in time to the song. All I know is that somewhere, there’s a videotape of me dancing, and everyone looked at me funny everytime I went in there.

Didn’t bother me a bit. Mom was mortified, but admittedly,
I’d never seen her laugh so hard. Hopefully the audio caught me singing, “DON’T Marry Her, Billllllllllll!!!!” because that was the best part!

This entry was posted on Thursday, October 5th, 2006 at 6:56 AM and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.