12 January 2012

Frozen Feminine Hygiene Follies

I will start this post by saying something that's going to please my friend, the Simple Lemming. Today I found myself looking in my fridge for feminine hygiene products.

Look for it in your frozen food section.
This is what my life has become.

Let me illuminate what goes into this particular circumstance. I went shopping today. I took $47 worth of coupons with me and did $300 worth of groceries when all was said and done.

Which looks something like this.
If you've ever shopped at BJ's or any other warehouse club, you'll know that that shopping cart is larger than many cars on the road these days. There are 33 items in that cart. Remember I brought $47 worth of coupons with me and one of those coupons was for the above pictured feminine hygiene product.

The reason I have a picture of the above feminine hygiene product is that I was instructed to get something 'with wings.'

Now available at your local warehouse club (Wikipedia).
Being male and absolutely terrified of trying to buy feminine care products by myself, I took a picture of the product and sent it to the wife to verify that those pads can, in fact, fly.

Photographer's interpretation of male conceptions of winged feminine hygiene products (Wikipedia).
As I recall, I put the product in my cart after sending the picture to the wife and getting her answer (they can fly). I then proceeded to check out, which is a surprisingly traumatic process at BJ's despite the fact that they have automated cashiers. After checking out, I took the groceries to the car and snapped the photo of my cart to tell the wife the results.

When I got home, I put away the groceries. As any rational person, I put away the dairy products and any meats that didn't need dividing first. I stacked anything that would be going to the bathroom on the dining room table. At the end of this process, the trunk and bags all empty, I noticed that the item above was not on the dining room table.

This perplexed me greatly.

I checked the canvas grocery bags again. Nothing. I didn't have plastic bags to look through because BJ's doesn't give you any bags (most of the stuff you can buy there won't fit in a plastic bag; sometimes not in your cart either). I checked the stack on the dining room table again, although it was plain to see that you could in no way hide 64 flying terror birds in that stack.

Why yes, those are two 4-packs of Old Spice deodorant, Ladies. How do you think I landed my wife?
I even decided to check the stacks of Special K pictured above and on the bench just in case I accidentally put a gigantic box of delicious panty treats (I thought that granola tasted weird) with my breakfast food. It wasn't there.

Eventually, I went back out to the car and checked the trunk and the cabin even though I know the only things I put in the back seat were the gigantic pack of Bounty and Charmin, and the only thing I put in the front seat was the 36-pack of eggs.

Yes, I have an ongoing fear of putting feminine hygiene products with my breakfast food.

As an aside, while I was typing this post my cats decided it would be a great idea to chase each other into their water bowl, upending it across the dining room floor. I blame my wife for this, of course, because it was her idea to put The Minion in a purple tulle bow. Clearly this was his idea of revenge.

I bring this up to say this is what happens when you buy cheap paper towels.

You use 27 paper towels (22 pictured) to clean up a water spill.
That's why I decided to go with Bounty this time.

Now where's my product endorsement check?

Anyway, panty liners. At this point in our story, it was time for me to go pick up the wife for lunch, so I dismissed the mystery until we had finished eating lunch and I related the above incidents—minus the cat problem—to her. Then I said, "I've checked everywhere except the fridge and freezer."

We looked at each other.

I returned the wife to work and came home. When I did, as you already know, I checked the refrigerator and the freezer. They were not there. I was genuinely worried at this point that I had left them at BJ's, so I picked up the receipt again to see how much money I had wasted.

All the double-spaced entries are coupons. I'm just saying.
It was then—and only then—that I learned that I had not, in fact, purchased the sanitary napkins after all.

Clearly the children are destroying my mind.

And you thought I was exaggerating about brain-eating toddlers.
What do you mean "You don't have any kids"? Why should that matter?

Their evil knows no bounds.

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