Foible Foible Everywhere

For those of you blog enthusiasts who are disgruntled at my recent blog sabbatical.... I give you "Purse Incident" classified.

It's Monday man, I'm tired, hungry, and having a genuinely bad day. I was supposed to be in the wonderful and warm deserts of Arizona for work, but, due to a sudden snow surge in the Southwest (just my luck) the interviewee flew into RI. So, saddened by my lack of toasty travels, and exhausted from 8 straight hours of an interview with a potential employee, I am happy to head home. I'll be watching a movie tonight. Hoax...I heard it was really good so I am looking forward to relaxing, having dinner, watching a movie with a glass of wine. Uggg...@#$%@$@%$#@$%#@. I have no wine. Pit stop...Haley's Liquors!

Now..preface...For London adventure I had purchased a wonderful gold and black beaded satchel bag that I now can't live without. I love this thing even though it is a heavy, bottomless pit of a bag. I get compliments on this everywhere. (Even the drive through at Wendy's...I kid you not!) So, all impracticality aside, the bag is on my hip.

Carry On said storyteller.

Enter Haley's Liquor and say hello to the nice desk clerk who clearly thinks I am underage and is watching me like a hawk. You would think the 4 inch heels, the DD boobs mixed in with a few wrinkles would change his mind..but alas it does not. I gather some beer and two bottles of wine. I make my way to the counter with a smile. And then it happens. The "Incident". It was like a movie, when you know something bad is happening and everything is suddenly in slow motion. You toy with the idea of fixing the problem, but then realize, in order to do this, you will ultimately be causing another incident when you throw the beer and wine out of your hands and onto the floor. So, as not to sacrifice innocent booze,I turn and grimace. I know it is all over.

Silence...then. KKKAAAABBBBOOOOM! An entire display of Menage et Trois comes crashing down. I look up and simply smile..hoping that my good looks and charm with keep the un-trusting counter clerk (his gold tooth and all) from charging me for the whole pile. I mean...how can I sleep at night knowing I had to pay for wine I could never drink. Silence Again. I walk shamefaced to the counter. He rings me up. Only one bottle charged...phewww. As I go to leave he leans in and whispers.. "You may want to think about getting a differernt bag honey. You might take someone out with that."

Where have I gone so horribly wrong.