This week the girl in my office went to 7-11 to pick up her lunch. Shit, I could stop this whole post right there couldn’t I. 7-11 for lunch, thats about as ghetto as it gets huh. The only times I’ve ever been to 7-11 for lunch is when I was menstruating or super high and really “needed” some nachos and/or powdered sugar donuts (not just any donuts, but the ones with the raspberry goo inside).
I digress. The girl in my office returned and announced that this particular 7-11 was going out of business and everything was 50% off. I paid it no mind since I can’t buy alcohol or anything but water during Lent. Later that night my parents called and informed my husband that beer was basically being sold for about .50 each. He was impressed. They showed up with a ton of Bud Lite and Newcastle and I think anything I had ever done wrong to my husband was magically erased by the generosity of my parents toting arm loads of beer into my home. Not just any beer but Bud Lite AND Newcastle. To my husband Newcastle is similar to the difference between Hersheys and Godiva to me. He promptly popped open a fresh beer and exclaimed that he thought it tasted better because it was free and half off.
Tonight, I was sitting here talking to Robs friend who had just come from 7-11 for some chaw (a lá “The Sandlot.” Suddenly I remembered that I wanted to go there. So I dumped the kids on Rob and off I went. I arrived to see little pink signs declaring the store half off and away I went. I walked straight for the Beer. I grabbed (3) more 6 packs of Bud Lite and (2) 40’s of Corona. I feel ghetto just typing out that I purchased 40’s.
As I was stocking up on all this beer it reminded me of my younger years. I could picture young skinny Shannon bopping into 7-11 with her posse of male friends (I still don’t get along with women, they are all bitches) and heading for the alcohol. We would discover the sale and rather then stock up on good beer we would do what any logical college assholes would do. Go right for the cheapest beer. Keystone Lite half off HELL YA! Why pay .50 for a beer when we could pay .25 for one. Then I realized that is what all of my male friends would have done. What Shannon would have done was proceeded to bop up to the counter and purchase every single bottle of liquor AND OF COURSE every single mini bottle of liquor, “because they were cute and like teeny and stuff.” Then I would have bought a few cherry Parliments and called it a night. I would have proceeded to see how much liquor I could drink at once since it was on sale I wouldn’t have to ration, and when I was puking it back up that night, it would all feel okay, because that puke was much less expensive then the puke from the night before. (was that just the mother of all run on sentences or what). I could see me now. Drunkinly stumbling around a frat party telling anyone who would listen and even those who wouldn’t about how awesome I was scoring 50% off alcohol and how, “I’m not even drunk guys,” seconds before heaving onto their carpet. Oh to be 19 again.
Then genius struck. I walked to the chips and loaded up on stuff for Robs lunch 10-15 bags later I had Lays, Maui Onion chips, Wasabi chips, Doritos, Kettle chips and so on. I also grabbed about 7 bags of puffy Cheeto’s for Brandon. I grabbed (5) packs of gum and about (9) Hersheys jumbo organic chocolate bars. I had (6) Kit Kats and (7) Twix for Robs lunch. He hasn’t had candy in his lunch since Halloween when we picked through Brandon’s loot. Not only would he be delighted to see candy in his lunch box it would be WHOLE candy bars! Yeah I was fully aware that he was going to want to do naughty things with me when I got home, beer, chips and candy, shit it couldn’t get any better.
But it did. I ventured over to the novelty ice cream and picked up (3) cinnamon Choco Tacos for him. At that moment, I knew I had won the award for wife who did the best shopping at 7-11. I picked up some large Nestlé chocolate milk for Brandon, some M&ms, some donuts for his breakfast, some butter (shit it was the good Land O Lakes unsalted and it was half off and I was out of butter), and some other ice cream and various goodies.
I was about to leave when I realized I hadn’t gotten the only thing I ever go there for. NACHOS. Okay that is a lie, I go there for nachos and raspberry jam filled powdered donuts, but mainly the nachos.
For me, eating nachos is nostalgic. Every time I get them I revert back to the days in high school when I was ALWAYS stoned. I would be out in the valley with my guy friends and we would get way high. You could tell I was stoned two ways. 1. I asked them to take me to get chicken, or 2. I asked them to take me to 7-11. We would get to 7-11 and it would feel as though I was a Catholic who had just set foot on the popes front door. I had a routine. I would head straight for the Slurppy machine, get a large Blue and then head for my donuts. I would put those on the counter and head back for some delicious nachos. Onions, triple cheese and chips and I was on my way. We would head back to Joshie D’s house and I would proceed to stuff my face with food. The guys loved watching this, because for some reason guys get off seeing skinny girls eat. You should have seen how much they loved to watch me eat chicken tenders with ranch dripping off em, that might have had something to do with the sex noises I made while eating them.
However. Now, every time I get those nachos I realize something. You have to be really stoned to eat them, because fuck they taste like shit! And considering I made a deal with myself to never take another drink or another drug after having kids, you would think I would stop subjecting myself to the rancidness that is 7-11 nachos. But that’s like saying that you would think at some point fat people would be smart enough to stop super sizing. I’ll never be smart enough to avoid the nachos that are so toxic they could probably peal that paint Brandon spilled on my garage floor clean off!
When I got home it was as though Brandon’s head nearly fucking exploded. I walked in carrying bag loads of goodies. All the guys ooohed and ahhhed over the beer while my son jumped from bag to bag shouting, CHEEYO’S, CHOGGLET NILP, DOE NUTS, CHOGGLET, GUM, CHOGGLET NILP, MAMA IT’S CHEEY’S AND CHOGGLET NILP. I swear he is laying in bed right now dreaming of how he loves that his mom is just ghetto enough to guy buy discount beer, milk and butter from her local gas station.
To reiterate, it hurts being this awesome ya’ll!