Dec 142009

Because Henry was being a little angel by cleaning for game night (more on game night horrors later), I decided to do the grocery shopping. But really it was so I could use the shopping list tab in my Awesome Note app, which is so far my favorite app, aside from Words With Friends, which is apparently good for meeting future husbands on top of learning new two-letter words.

What you should know about me, and probably could have guessed, is that I am no grocery shopper. Basically, I’m a fat red “F” upon an essay on the topic of housewives. I mean, there was a time a year ago when I wanted Henry to make sugar cookies and he was all, “If you want cookies then get your jigglin’ ass to the store and buy the ingredients.” Even after writing it down, Janna and Blake still had to come with me to make sure I didn’t fuck it up. For Christ’s sake, this is what my fridge used to look like pre-Henry:


(Lol @ Zima. That was probably for Janna.)

So yesterday I made Alisha go with me. I didn’t need a lot of stuff. In fact, I had given myself a budget, which I never actually put a number to, but just kept chanting ‘budget budget budget” in my mind as I roamed sadly through aisles of shit you can make food with. Alisha is pretty no-nonsense when it comes to shopping, so I sort of felt safe. I was even really impressed when I called Henry to see if he wanted me to get stuff for spinach dip and Alisha already knew how to make it!

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And even where to get the ingredients! (Although I still felt it necessary to send Henry a photo of the packet of Knorr’s vegetable powder shit to make sure it was right.)

I was going to get salsa, but the kind I like is nearly $5 and I was like, “Oh, not from my checking account.” I’ll save that for Henry’s next trip. In another aisle, I found myself wondering how I got to the point where $3 for a bag of candy inspired me to clutch my heart. Jesus christ, I can’t tell  you how much I hate to spend money when it’s my own and not my mommy’s.

Every single person in that store I hated. Every last one of them. Were you at Giant Eagle in Brentwood, PA yesterday? Hated you. Handicapped? Still hated you. A baby? You were ugly and I hated you. I was sick of the squeaking wheels on my cart; sick of the ugly babies; sick of the women who camped out in the aisles with their carts, chatting to other uppity soccer moms they know from their swinger parties; sick of the $14.99 price tag on the Penguins coffee mug I was eyeing up (Alisha considered getting it for me for Christmas, saw the price, and then picked up a shot glass and said, “Uh, can you just drink your coffee out of this?

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” and I thought, “Well, it’s better than the arsenic-laced thimble Henry pours my coffee in.” TIMES, THEY ARE TOUGH!).

Alisha even asked me if I was crying at one point.

But then I saw it. It was in the aisle with all the baking bullshit. We were there so Alisha could get marshmallows for rice krispie treats. It’s all because of Alisha that I found a bag of gigantic regular and strawberry marshmallows, made in some unknown, off-brand factory, probably in Arkansas, and ready for me to buy them for only .

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“What the fuck are you going to do with those?” Alisha asked hesitantly as I tossed them in the cart.

“Make something awesome,” I said. I mean, duh.

Then we had to go down a bunch of other aisles before checking out. “I love grocery shopping,” Alisha said, which you know warranted a look of incredulity from me. “It’s fun because you can find cool stuff.”

“That’s what European travel is for!” I sighed, moments before Alisha chose the WORST POSSIBLE LINE TO STAND IN and I started getting hot flashes and our cashier was some slow-as-shit young kid who I think might have been exisiting solely on canned cheese. I texted Henry and thanked him for not making me grocery shop on the regular. Can you imagine?? No wonder people say I don’t look my age yet – it’s because I’m not forced to supermarket sweep.

But it was all worth it, newly cultivated gray hairs and all, because I got to come home to a clean (semi-clean) house and make these beautiful marshmallow monsters that were supposed to serve as game night referrees but instead just sat on the coffee table, frosting-hair congealing into poison and candied eyeballs slowly sliding down their sugared faces. To tell the truth, I am quite smitten with them and plan on preserving them so that their friendly facades can be enjoyed by all for years to come. Amen.


Henry and Alisha kept giving me annoyed looks as I tediously labored over them in a very Dr. Frankenstein fashion. I like to pretend they’re my army. With their help, I’ll be mayor of this town. Or at the very least, the person who gets to ring the bell in the clock tower. After Henry builds me a clock tower.)


Because I’m obsessed, I tweeted another photo of them  today. Henry was sitting next to me and when the tweet came through to his phone (yes, he gets  my tweets to his phone; that’s TRU LUV), he glanced at it quickly then put his phone down.

“You didn’t look at the picture,” I whined, insulted.

“Um, I know what it is. It’s those stupid marshmallows. And they’re right there on the table.” OK it’s true, they were right in front of him. But my photo was from a different angle. No excuses.

3The one on my right is my favorite. He’s my little edible scene kid! (Although, I wouldn’t actually eat these. Chooch helped with some and well, he touches his butt as often as a dog LICKS his butt. Also, I saw him lick a toothpick-arm before spearing it into the side of a monster.)




I might make more, turn them into ornaments and sell them on ETSY. LOOK OUT WORLD (and Regretsy).

  13 Responses to “The Oh Honestly Army”

  1. I was totally wondering how they survived this far.I would totally have eaten them and thought that as I scanned down the pictures…….and got to the part about Chooch helping and the fact that they might have butt on them.Then I was so sure I wouldn’t. I never eat anything even my own kids make,and they are bigger.Cute though!

    • Thank you! No one else seemed to derive as much joy from them as I did. I felt like a kid whose parents didn’t hang her art on the fridge. :(

      If anything, Henry and Alisha should have been happy that it kept me busy and out of the kitchen.

  2. Seriously, if you make these and sell them as ornaments I will have them submitted to regretsy faster than Henry can tie a bandana!

    I love you that much.

  3. Those marshmallows are adorable. If your cooking skill matched your creativity, you’d be the next Julia Child!

    I’ll never understand how people (like Tery) can look at a bunch of raw ingredients in a grocery aisle and put together an edible meal. When she wants me to buy dinner, I head straight for the frozen section and the overpriced packaged meals in a bag.

    • Anytime I think of you and Tery, I imagine what it would be like if we double dated. I always picture Henry and Tery exchanging recipes while we talk about music no one else knows. It would be fun!

  4. P.S.: Share and share alike. Have you heard these guys?

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  5. Um..did you move the marshmellow men…into scenes? My level of concern may be a little raised at this point.

    • No, I didn’t! Ok, I did. But the worst part, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this to you, is that at one point I thought I was missing one and started accusing Chooch. I started to break a nervous sweat, I swear. Then I looked at the original photos I took before game night and realized they were all there.

      Emergency diverted.

  6. I will forever call the fruit and vegetable bins in my fridge “the alcohol receptacle” because of this picture of your fridge!!

    Grocery shopping is a punishment.

  7. I also hate the grocery store and fly into a white hot rage over rude douchbags that block the aisle with their carts. Paul’s job is to pick up poop. so I get the grocery store deal. Next week we’re on vacation, so that’s like 9 DAYS of food we need. we can’t have taco bell every night because its too far away (oh how I love the cheesy gordita crunch)
    When I’m at work, Paul has gum for dinner and I go to my parents house. So spoiled.

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