Stuck in the middle

I've been back in my hometown for three years now, and at first I kept running into people from high school. I must've been here too long now because I'm running into people I haven't seen since middle school.

That's right, I'm bumping into people I haven't seen since I was 12 or 13, which means approximately 18 years have elapsed since I have seen these people last. I was a super dork in middle school, but I am much cooler now. I like to think if you stood my middle school self next to my current self you couldn't tell that they are the same person. People from middle school still recognize me, though, which is discouraging and makes me worry that I might not actually be as cool as I think.

For instance, at the supermarket the other day I ran into the guy who stole my Walkman in the seventh grade. And this fool has the nerve to talk to me like we're friends and it was some glorious reunion.

“We're not friends,” I told him. “You stole my Walkman, and it had my Bush tape in it and everything! I know you did, don't try and deny it. But apparently someone has stolen all of your hair, so I see that justice has been done.”

Of course I didn't really say that, because I am only 87 percent sure he was the Walkman thief. I would have confronted him right there in the produce section if I had been 95 percent sure, or even 90. Pretty sure I'll never see that tape ever again.

The next middle school meeting wasn't so traumatic. I ran into one of my best eight grade friends at work. I wasn't sure it was him at first and there was a fair amount of awkward silence. I finally summoned the courage and asked, “Hey, do I know you from middle school?”

It was cool to see him, but when you haven't seen someone for 18 years, what do you say to them? So this is what I said:

“So, are you still really into pogs?”

Anyone else had awkward run-ins with old friends? Or advice on how to handle them? Every time you comment, a unicorn's horn gleams a little more brightly.

Grocery adventures

I've been having bad luck at the check out counter lately. Take last night: I went with my wife and my infant son to one of those specialty grocery stores, where most of the food is organic or vegan and all the employees are perky-bordering-on-creepy. And it had a crapload of wine. Here is what happened to me at the checkout counter, and keep in mind that my wife doesn't drink.

Checker: “Did you folks notice that we're having a sale on wine today?”

Me: “Oh, we better not.” (pointing at my wife) “My wife here just got sober. How many days is it now, dear? Show him the little A.A. coins you got in rehab.”

I thought I was being hilarious, but Wifey was not impressed. This is frequently the case.

My next mishap happened when I was at Walmart (forgive me for my sins). My wife refuses to go to Walmart, partially because of moralistic reasons but mostly because she gets claustrophobic and panicky at the hordes and hordes of people pushing and shoving trying to save money. Also, at our Walmart low prices seem to come in exchange for any type of customer service.

So I was at Walmart with my son sitting in the cart. I was loading my groceries onto the conveyor belt, which left my kid sitting undefended in the cart while the creepy people behind me in line snuck up on him. When I turned around two middle-aged women and their two infectious daughters had their hands all over my son, touching his feet, hands and face.

“He's so cute!” they all said.

“Stop touching him!” I yelped.

Women, daughters and cashier all looked at me like I was the biggest jerk in Walmart history.

“Do you even have clean hands? Are you current on your shots? I mean, you can't just walk up to someone and start touching them, even if they are a baby! When has that ever been OK? What if I just walked up and started touching your daughter's face?”

Needless to say, after I paid for my groceries I beat a hasty retreat. I told my wife about it and she said it reminded her of when she was pregnant and she got all sorts of unsolicited belly touching, so Junior should be used to it by now. Something about pregnancy and babies makes people forget normal human boundaries.

So for now I'm avoiding grocery stores. I think I'll start ordering groceries online, or maybe pay a neighbor kid to go for me.

Anyone else had a similar experience? Each time you leave a comment, a puppy's life is saved.

The Beard makes brief appearance, knows when it's not welcome, leaves

 

I've had a long and complicated history with beards. I am constantly shaving and then growing beards. Recently I tried to grow another one and my wife was very supportive. The Beard and my wife tried to work it out, they really did, especially my wife. They tried to make it work for my sake, but after a few weeks it became clear that it would only end in tears.

“It's like kissing a toothbrush,” she said kindly.

I had to admit that didn't sound pleasant.

“It's like your whole face is covered in toothbrush bristles and my face has tartar on it and you're trying to scrub it all off. Only I don't have tartar on my face and you're just slowly scraping away all my skin and tissue until one day I'm going to be just a fleshless skull staring back at you with hollow eye sockets, asking, 'Why?'”

OK, my wife didn't say all that, but I could tell the Beard wasn't her favorite. I researched the issue on the trusty internet and found that if you put “beard conditioner” on your beard it is supposed to make your beard softer and more kissable. I set out on a journey to find it and instead found that there is a huge disparity in the availability of grooming products for men and women. I would ask for beard conditioner and store employees would look at me like I asked for winged high-top zebra skin tap dancing shoes and say, “What's that?”

I went online, but beard conditioner costs a fortune and only comes in weird hippie scents. I tried putting regular hair conditioner on my beard and that was what we call a “limited success” aka “failure.”

So I was thinking seriously about shaving when I saw one of my co-workers and we had an awkward beard moment. This co-worker is on the road all the time so we hadn't seen each other in several weeks.

“Whoa,” she said, “Nice... facial growth.”

Which made it sound like I had a giant, hairy mole or a tumor on my face, but a nice one, thankfully.

So with that, plus my wife disliking the beard, I shaved. I ran into the same co-worker again and she said, “Hey, where'd your beard go?”

“Well, my beard and my wife weren't getting along,” I said. “One of them had to go, and I chose my wife.”

“You got rid of your wife?”

“No, I chose my wife to keep, I got rid of the beard.”

“Oh. Probably a good choice.”

Anyone know any good brands of beard conditioner? Or have any beard tips? According to Science, people who leave comments report 37% greater life satisfaction than people who don't, so please leave a comment.