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Whenever there’s an article in a prominent news source (by which I mean Us Weekly) about celebrities “partying” too much, I never understand what it means. And perhaps, now that I think about it, this is all a function of how unspeakably lame I’ve become in recent years. Exhibit A: We spent the weekend at my parents’ house, and given the gift of free babysitting on Saturday night (thanks, Mom and Dad!), we took the opportunity to…go food shopping. And now I invite you to SUPERMARKET SWEEPS.
1. You’re in the spice aisle. Getting spices and whatnot. Your husband approaches with the cart. What do you do?
(a) Calmly place the two glass jars in the cart.
(b) Toss the glass jars at him, shrieking “THINK FAST!”
(c) Commence shaking the jars like maracas, growling “oh, yeahhhhh! Let’s get this party STARTED,” in what you think is a fairly good impression of Gloria Estefan, but in all likelihood just makes you sound like you have a speech impediment.
(d) Dance-chase said husband into the next aisle, still shaking the spice jars, stage whispering that the rhythm is going to get him.
(e) Both (c) and (d).
2. You and your husband are purchasing fruit when some big band Muzak comes over the loudspeaker. What do you do?
(a) There IS only one real option here: West Side Story rumble walk.
3. You are in the dairy aisle, and spot an aerosol can filed with waffle batter. Let me clarify: SPRAY WAFFLES, Y’ALL. You then notice it has the following name:
What do you do?
(a) Whuh? Why is this funny?
(b) Dissolve into a GIGGLE EXPLOSION BECAUSE (ORGANIC!) BATTER BLASTER HAHAAAA.
(c) Tweet about Batter Blaster, and the humor inherent therein.
(d) Both (b) and (c).
4. You have recently learned a few basic moves from the Thriller dance. Your husband –a much better dancer than you BY FAR—locks eyes with you and commences a dance-off at the other end of the otherwise-empty dairy aisle, all the way down by the yogurt. “Weird!” you think, “So uncharacteristic of him!” What do you do?
(a) Figure it has to be a trick, ignore his Mr. Schuester-like moves, and continue perusing your Coffee Mate options.
(b) Naïvely assume that he has embraced the art of the dance-off, and is conveying this message to you through (what else?) dance.
(c) Commence excuting the few Thriller moves you have mastered with great fervor.
(d) Notice said husband has stopped dancing and is standing there, holding back laughter, as the purpose of his move bustin’ was NOT, in fact, to engage you in a dance-off out of the goodness of his heart, but rather, because a burly gentleman had, unbeknownst to you, rounded the corner of the dairy aisle and your husband KNEW you'd not be able to resist the lure of a dance-off. Aaaaand, now there's a large man standing there, arms crossed, smiling. On the bright side: he applauds.
(e) GAHHH, (b) through (d).
5. A bit wounded after the Great Dance-Off Debacle, you find yourselves in the baked goods section, square in front of a blank giant birthday cupcake-cake. What do you do?
(a) Duh, keep walking. It’s after midnight and you guys don’t need a damn cupcake-cake.
(b) Stand there for a full three minutes, debating the pros and cons of the cupcake-cake and why it should come home with you.
(c) Miraculously resist temptation.
Eyes on your own paper, people.
Metalia can also be found here. Oftentimes in rap form, for some reason.
