I'm in the Harp's yesterday buying eggs so the kid can make popovers for our chicken gruel (we're making chicken gruel with barley now, hoping to make it through until Friday, when both mr. delagar and I get paid -- he got a raise, btw! The UA of Pork Smith is no longer paying Adjuncts diddley, as he now goes about telling everyone! Now they are paying them Squat!) and the guy in front of me at the check out asked the weekend manager (whom he obviously knew, because we live in that sort of neighborhood, well, all of Pork Smith is that neighborhood, everywhere you go everyone knows you, I can't buy eggs without meeting three or four of my students in the dairy aisle and produce section, and I'll have to tell you some day about meeting my student when I went out at three a.m. to buy condoms) -- where was I?
Oh, right. He asked the manager, and really the checkout section in general, who Obama had picked as his VP.
"Biden," said the woman running the register next over, a slender blonde girl with a sweet little stud through her upper lip.
"Biden!" said the guy who had asked the question, a beefy white guy wearing a polo shirt and cargo shorts, who had nearly clipped my bike with his gigantic white SUV in the parking lot and who had just ordered a carton of Marlboro Reds. "Man, I was hoping for Hiliary."
"Ha," said the blonde girl. "He's too scared of Hiliary, she's too smart for him."
"They'd fight too much," the store manager opined. "I don't know about Biden, though," he added. "That's not who I was hoping for."
The beefy white guy huffed in agreement, and took his cigarettes on out.
Me, I'm trying to keep a good thought.
4 hours ago