So tonight there is going to be a few blog updates. First I’ll start with the one I meant to put up but got distracted by sleep so I didn’t – Wednesday’s Adventure with Curious George.
Curious George, by the way, is my husband.
Don’t ever take Curious George to Barnes and Noble (or any bookstore for that matter) unless you want to spend the next two hours there and be so exasperated you want to gouge your eyes out with rusty nails and then run into on-coming traffic.
We make this trip about once a year – the one where I get brave and take my overly curious husband to a place filled with things he doesn’t have – and I always leave with less hair (from tearing it out), a combination of laughing and crying (at the ridiculousness of the situation), and with absolutely not a damn thing I originally went in there for. Yet Curious George always gets at least one thing he’s decided he just can’t live with out.
I may as well start at the beginning. This is way too stupid to make up or start in the middle with.
So it’s starts by me coming home from class in a really chipper mood. The following conversation takes place in the car on my home from school:
Me: Hey babe, whatcha doing?
Curious: Just watching TV, you on your way home?
Me: Yes. Hey, I was thinking, are you hungry? (Like I needed to ask…)
Curious: Yeah. Gonna bring home food?
(Five minutes later, after consulting our stomachs on what we want to eat and debating over burritos or full course menu items…)
Me: Ok, well then get up and get dressed and I’ll pick you up. We’ll go to IHOP or something.
Curious: Do I have to get dressed?
Me: Yes. If you want to eat.
-End of conversation-
So I pick him up and we go to IHOP, order one of everything on the menu because we are famished, and decide that after eating we are going to the bookstore since I wanted to pick up a new cookbook. At that time, it seemed like a fairly reasonable idea and great way to spend the day with my babe – out shopping.
Obviously, I had a massive brain-fart and didn’t remember every other freaking time we have gone to the bookstore together. It always starts out the same way. I decide I need to buy a book, he tags along because he thinks he needs to buy another book too, we go for what should be an hour trip including drive time…and then three hours later I pull into the drive-way ready to Hail-Mary his balls across the street.
This trip was no different.
I realized what was about to happen when we pulled into the parking lot of the Barnes and Nobles at the mall nearest our home. It’s the middle of the busy shopping season so its packed full of people who think they have every right to be rude to you and get away with it.
My blood pressure is already up and my anxiety is peaked.
I hate malls.
Get in, get your shit, and get out. No need to drag this out any further – right?
So I turned to Curious George right after I locked the car, who now has his curious face on and is looking around him like its the first time in his life I’ve let him out of the house, and I warn him immediately.
“Alright babe, I just need to get a cook book and then we can go. No touching stuff.”
I wait for his confirmation nod and we proceed, hand in jolly hand, into the store. I sense a disturbance in the force but I chalk it up to the fact that as smart as my husband is he often reminds me of Peter off of Family Guy.
As soon as we enter, it’s like the entire previous conversation has gone straight out the window. He immediately clamps down on my hand – and against my loud protests “Babe, no, don’t you dare!”- drags me to the magazine section to the right side of the store instead of up the escalator to the second floor where the cookbooks are.
I should have known that telling him not to touch anything was like waving a red flag in front of a bull and expecting it to just sit there and think its pretty from a distance.
At first I thought it was cute: He refuses to let go of my hand and is mumbling to himself like an old man as he quickly searches through the hundreds of magazines they have for sale and starts leafing through them – one handed. When I realize we are going to be standing there for a while, I know I have about two seconds once he is distracted to pull my hand from his and step back out of his reach.
I wait for the perfect opportunity and it comes when he goes, “Ooooooohh babe look its robots.” CURIOUS GEORGE IS DISTRACTED – ALL SYSTEMS GO!
But alas, I wasn’t fast enough. Once out of his reach he turns and looks at me with his pouty face and immediately motions me to his side as if he is slightly hurt that I am not as interested in the robots as he is.
“Babe, where you going? Look what I found!” He is so excited I know that I can’t go upstairs and find my cookbook just yet. I heave a great big exaggerated sigh and sit down in the nearest chair and wait for him to finish telling me about some company that does some miraculous thing and how awesome it is.
This is gonna be a long trip.
After about ten minutes, he is through looking at magazines and I quickly reach for his hand and drag him (literally drag him since he only wants to move a few steps at a time and then look at something new) halfway to the bottom of the escalators. I get pulled up short when we reach the middle isles between the magazines and the escalator to the second floor.
I was dreading this stop.
It’s the fucking isle that has the miscellaneous items from puzzles and classic books to DIY kits and toy models. Its got calenders, stickers, collectible toys things, and all manner of stuff he thinks he will need at some point in his life.
At one point he picked up a book that gave step by step instructions on how to make friendship bracelets. He turned to me and asked, “Babe, will you make me a friendship bracelet?”
“Why would I need to make you a friendship bracelet?”
“So that people can know we are friends.” He’s looking at me like I’m slow.
“Honey, we’re married. I think the friendship thing is implied.”
“So is that a no on the friendship bracelet?”
We aren’t going anywhere for awhile.
Half of this shit he has already seen, but it doesn’t matter. He has latched on to my hand worse than a Face-Hugger (Alien vs Predator reference).
Twenty minutes later I manage to bulldoze him over to the last isle nearest the escalators. Exasperated and a little miffed at all the funny looks we are getting – What? You’ve never seen a grown woman push a grown man down a five foot isle and it take ten minutes to do so? – I take my foot off his spine and throw my hands in the air.
“Ok honey, I give up,” I tell him, “You stay here and I’m going to go upstairs and grab a cook book.”
He immediately turns to me and shakes his head. “No babe. I might get lost.”
I would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation but I left my laugh card at home right next to my patience and I couldn’t tell by the look on his face whether he was serious or not.
He was probably just messing with me….I think. We never know with Curious George.
Ten minutes later I get him to the bottom of the escalator and we reach the second floor.
Ok, just two isles over and I’ll be in the cookbook section. We just have to make it two isl-
“Hey babe, I think you need a Justin Bieber book. Oh look,” he grabs my hand again and we walk towards it, “They have one right here.”
As you can imagine, I am feeling a little like we are never going to get out of there. In my mind:
I’m going to die in the Barnes and Nobles. On my tomb stone its going to read: Here lies Aurora. She took her husband to Barnes and Noble and never returned. MIA since 2012.
To make the next hour long story short, we did reach the cook book section. I looked through a lot of them but he didn’t like the healthy ones I was picking out and I can’t eat steak for every meal so we agreed to disagree on the cookbook thing for a bit. He gave me shit about others, and then decided he was mostly interested in making beer so we spent the majority of our time looking at how to make home breweries and which cook books for that topic was best – which was conveniently located right in the cook book section I had been trying to drag him to the entire time.
Hey if he wants to make beer, so be it. As long as its legal and keeps him occupied I’m good with it. It’s when he gets bored that he tends to blow stuff up.
Anyways, I gave up about thirty minutes later and then had the pleasure of trying to coral him through the children’s books sections (which was an adventure and earned us some interesting looks), down the escalator and then back through the treacherous middle isles. He wanted to look through ALL the middle isles again, which I almost kicked him in the balls for but somehow found the remaining shred of dignity to get through it without a scene.
It wouldn’t do any good for me to get landed in jail for bashing my husband upside the head with the nearest copy of The HOBBIT and then follow it up with shoving a toy airplane some place where toy airplanes should never go. They’d never let me back in that store again.
If you think that was ridiculous, it doesn’t actually end there.
He finds something he wants and we walk to what I was hoping would be the journal section (another place I wanted to go to). I didn’t find anything I wanted when I glanced through the leather bound ones, so I turned to grab Curious George and leave….
Where the fuck did he go?
So I start calling his name (trying not to be too loud) and looking up and down the isles. He’s a bit over six feet tall, its not like you can’t see him everywhere he goes.
That bastard wasn’t kidding. Damn. I should have kept hold of his hand. When the heck did I drop it?
I eventually find him looking at small furry animal puzzles in the toy section. He wants one, but unfortunately, I have run out of patience. It’s time to go. I didn’t get what I was looking for and all I want to do is pay for his book and leave. On the way to the checkout stand we – of course – have to stop every few feet for the 3D puzzles, the comics, the Yugioh cards, and some brain puzzles.
It takes ten more minutes and me constantly having to look behind me to check and make sure he hasn’t wandered off somewhere while I wait in line for checkout.
I get there, pay for his book, call his name and tell him to stop touching something, (the register lady laughs and shakes her head – glad we amuse you), and then I pull him out of the store.
Once the fresh air hits my face I feel better. Slightly.
I look up at him while we are walking to the car.
“Honey, did you really have to touch everything?”
“Babe, you should know better by now than to take a curious person to a book store.”