Talk Is Sheep

Paper Smothers Rock, Rock Crushes Scissors, Scissors Cut Paper

BUT I’VE GOT DYNAMITE AND I’LL BLOW YOU TO PIECES!

Sarah and I have a very determined strategy for making boring decisions more fun and interesting. Rochambeau. So if we’re in Barnes & Noble and I’ve got 10 books that I know I’ll never read (and this happens every time we go in there), we’ll shoot to narrow that down to one. The rules are simple: take sides, shoot, and never, under any circumstances question the outcome.

Most of our rochambeau scenarios for this include choosing flavors for a product that comes in multiple flavors like ice cream or chewing gum. But we also rochambeau for movies, tv shows, video games and extracuricular activities like photo shoots. Sometimes we even shoot for where to park or “what to do next”. I’m hoping we eventually rochambeau for a child’s name. Or maybe we’ll just name it Rochambeau Quinton Creasy.

I like kissing my wife. I could get into the gory details, but I’ll spare you, loyal reader. But there have been a couple of interesting things that have happened in the grocery store involving kissing my wife.

The first was a BIG KISS. I mean I was busy mashing faces and she was popping a heel. Big time. We were in line for checkout. So when I came up for air I look out across the registers and one of the checkout clerks who had noticed was smiling and pumping her fist in the air, as if to say, “way to go, I love watching you make out with your wife!”. Checkout clerk – I like making out with my wife more than you like to watch it. I guarantee it.

The second was less heroic and mostly just pathetic on my part. We were in front of the deli about to split up so she could finish the shopping while I waited for the notoriously slow deli meats to get sliced (they don’t slice themselves, you know). With singular purpose and desire, Sarah leaned in to mash faces with me. I, confused and specifically out of the moment leaned in, and at the last second dodged so that her kiss planted firmly on my cheek. Miffed would probably be a polite way to describe Sarah’s face when we pulled apart. But then her expectations and my attention span were poorly aligned in that moment and tragedy, as you can see, promptly ensued.