Don’t judge a book by its cover AKA Don’t judge a woman by the contents of her shopping cart AKA I swear I’m not a crazy cat lady

This is the story of how I walked out of the store with the ultimate crazy cat lady cart.

I went to the store to buy cat food.  We ran out yesterday but he still had enough for one more day and then it snowed like crazy so I decided to wait until this evening to buy some.  Right before I left I got into a ridiculously stupid fight with Nick (my husband), really inconsequential and not worth mentioning except that it lays the ground work for the rest of my tale.

So we fight.  I go to the store feeling stupid and hurt.  As I park the car I remember that I’m also running low on provisions for the nether regions.  So I grab a cart and head for the most embarrassing aisle at Walmart.  I now have in my cart, 1 package of lady things.

I head to the cat food aisle, painstakingly pick out the cheapest all natural cat food I can find and start to walk out of the aisle when I decide to grab him a new toy (since he’s mutilated his others), a brush and what-the-heck-why-not grab a cube he can sit in because heaven knows I haven’t bought enough of those *sarcasm*. I now have in my cart, 1 package of lady biz, 1 bag of hipster cat food, 1 cat toy Nick will hate because it has feathers, 1 cat brush I probably don’t need and 1 cat cube that later turns out to be pink, oops.

I’m right next to the grocery department and decide to wander in.  I remember we are low on water (reverse osmosis is the way for me).  I head over to the place I think the water is, (I think the water is there because it’s supposed to be) I pass Twinkies on the way and manage to not put any in the cart.  The water is not where it is supposed to be. Now I’m even sadder. I go on a quest to find the water.

On my water quest I pass the snack foods aisle, I now have Twinkies and Ho Ho’s in my cart along with half the cat stuff aisle and a bag of hormone sponges.

They recently moved all the beer to a spot closer to the front to save little old ladies from being mowed down by college students during St. Pat’s.  I head for the beer thinking maybe they moved the water there too.  I pass the candy aisle.  I remember that I love peanut butter cups (who am I kidding, I never forgot).  I now have peanut butter cups, Devil cakes, Satan rolls, cat heaven and 1 package of pms catchers in my cart.

The water is not there which actually makes sense.  I realize the water must be back where the beer used to be.  I turn around and quickly walk back the way I came.

Finally, I find the water.  I put two gallon jugs in my cart and just then notice that when they moved the beer they didn’t move the liquor.  I spot the rum.  I now have rum, trash, junk, crap, garbage, cat food and girly yak in my cart.

Rum is no good without his best friend vanilla coke.  Take a wild guess.

I finally make it to the check out.  My cart has 1 package of feminine products, 1 package of cat food, 1 cat toy, 1 cat brush, 1 cat cube, 1 box Twinkies, 1 box Ho Ho’s, 1 bag peanut butter cups, 2 gallons of water, 1 bottle of rum and 1 box vanilla coke.

And there I stand, an overweight woman in her 30’s, shopping alone at night, wearing boxy glasses, hair in a low ponytail, navy blue pea coat buttoned all the way up buying the ultimate crazy cat lady party package at the self-checkout.  The cashier in charge of making sure you don’t steal any tic tacs while you’re checking out doesn’t even bother to card me.  Probably because it’s pretty clear from the contents of my cart and my general appearance that I am, in fact, desperately in need of this rum.

Thus concluding the story of how I am really not a crazy cat lady and only appear to be one.

Surprise ending: I forgot the car was full of binders.  Completely different story.  So I put the crazy cat lady party cannon in a car full of binders, only further proving that I am actually some kind of librarian/cat lady person.

Alternate Title: This is why we can’t have nice things AKA There’s a party in my tummy! So Yummy!

Drumroll Please.

I’m on Twitter again. My @ is @everydaybonnie. I’m gonna put a button on this blog. (When I get around to it.) I’m gonna say stuff on my account. I know my readers have come to expect a lot from me. *stifled giggle* So I’ll be sure to deliver. This is my pic:


Try not to confuse me with this person. (You’d be surprised how often that happens.)


Still no Facebook account. I will only get another Facebook account if I ever become rich and famous enough to pay someone to run it for me and NEVER EVER read it to me. No scratch that. If I become that rich and famous I will make people sign up for a mailing list and they will receive daily updates via snail mail. That’s right, not even email. Snail. Mail. Delivered straight to your mailbox by handsome tuxedoed snails who only speak French or speak with Jamaican accents. I tried to find a pic of a handsome snail in a tux for this post but clearly the Internet is not ready for such awesomeness. Also, clearly I didn’t care enough to look for more than 2 seconds.

So just to recap: follow me on Twitter @everydaybonnie, soon I’ll be rich and famous, and when I’m rich and famous I’ll deliver mail dressed as an 8 foot snail in a tux.