NEEW YORK CITTEE??

If absolutely every last decision you have to make as a couple is a drawn out exchange of pro's and cons that isn't exactly an argument, but isn't exactly isn't an argument, perhaps it's time to enter into a NEW relationship with someone altogether different.

If you should enter into said new relationship and still find yourself constantly in heated debates about meaningless, trivial bullshit for upwards of 45 minutes at a go, perhaps you were not meant to BE in a relationship with someone else. Maybe you would be better serving the world as a monk in a devoted live of celibacy, a eunich in a devoted life of asexual ball-lessness, or maybe you have been devoting time to the completely wrong sexual orientation, and you need someone of the same sex to keep you in line. Maybe your constant mind numbing bickering over inconsequential drivel stems from a lack of sexual chemistry.

Whatever the case, hearing a couple bicker back and forth over what kind of salsa to buy at the grocery store for upwards of 25 minutes (I left the aisle and returned no less than 4 times, ultimately leaving salsa-less) is precisely the kind of thing I'm talking about, and it yet again reinforces one of the many reasons why I hate the grocery store.

In this case, I hate it because it drags you into a weirdly personal layer of other people's home lives, and people seem to forget they're in public more often at the grocery store than just about anywhere else. Nowhere else can you hear as many discussions over which shape of sandwich bags a person finds to be the most efficient for sack lunches, or which kind of toilet paper a body finds the most soothing and absorbent.

You wouldn't look through someone's medicine cabinet unless you wanted a sudden potentially scary jolt of what this person needs to maintain themselves. The grocery (and drug) store is pre-medicine cabinet, pre-nightstand drawer, pre-shower shelf. It's the only place a person can openly ruminate in public on which kind of ham gives them less gas, pick up a disposable enema to do a little house cleaning, and decide what kind of condoms they should take home, because they and the missus just aren't ready for another mouth to feed, but still need to get down from time to time. Travel pack or jumbo?

It's really quite gross when you get right down to it. But then, so is the human body. I suppose it only makes sense that the fuel station where a body gets all the crap it needs to keep it going along doing all the gross things it does would have to be a little disconcerting in and of itself.

But above all else, wouldn't our world be much better if people could keep their familial squabbles at home, whether they're at the grocery store, Wal Mart, Fudrucker's, or the Golden Corral? 'Cause I don't really give a shit what kind of salsa they want, or what kind of ham gives them less gas. And if I were wearing headphones, they'd scowl at me.

Damn. Looks like I'm low on milk.