Cute Grocery Store Pepsi Delivery Guy

So, it's New Year's Eve Day and I wake up at 7:00 a.m. I lay there and debate if I should get up and go to the store now to just get it over with because somehow, I am hosting a rather large neighborhood New Year's Eve festival tonight, and as the minutes tick away toward countdown, the guest list keeps climbing. (So, come on by if you're in the 'hood.)

I decide just to forego any more sleep, get up and throw on whatever clothes are nearest my bed, brush the gunk from my teeth (and the tongue--you always must brush your tongue, and now, you will probably be thinking of Manic Mom whenever you attempt this hygenical habit), and head out.

I am also heading out for the last grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalattenowhipextrahot of the year, and possibly of my life (see previous resolution post). It was a good thing the barrista chick put too much sugar-free vanilla in it and it didn't taste all that great and that I burned my tongue (yes, that same tongue I previously brushed). So, this is probably a blessing that my final grandenonfatsugarfreevanillalattenowhipextrahotsoIburnedmytonguehot was not anything I remotely enjoyed. Farewell, thee starbucks, hello an extra $15 a week.

I take my list and weave through the aisles at the store, grateful I have decided to get this chore over with, because we all know how I get panic attacks whenever I walk into the grocery store, or the kitchen for that matter. It's no wonder I have a problem with food -- I can't cook, I hate grocery stores. Why do I have a weight problem when anything involving shopping or cooking gives me a panic attack?!?! I guess it's the eating part I can do just fine.

I am browsing the tonic waters, trying to decide if I should get diet tonic water or regular, and please, help me out on this one -- IT'S WATER! So, there's fattening water, or non-fattening water, and how do the two differ? Holy cripes.

I am ready to exit the aisle and move onto the next food search from my list and I realize I am baracaded in by a crate full of Pepsi products and a cute Pepsi delivery guy. A young, cute, Pepsi delivery guy.

Cute Pepsi Delivery Guy is standing there, unsure of what to do because he needs to get into the aisle and we are both in each other's way. So, rather than turn my cart around and have to maneuver away so he cannot see my fat butt, I decide to make a joke and come at him head on with my cart, which, by the way, is happily stocked with Pepsi two-liter products that are on sale.

He's standing there, with some kind of grin on his face, and I can't tell what it means, like is he annoyed that I'm in the way, and he's just standing there trying to be polite, or does he think it's funny that I have to move around him?

"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying!" I joke. And smile. Of course, I smile.

Cute Pepsi Delivery Guy says, "I was just thinking I like your sweatshirt."

I look over my shoulder, blush, look down at my sweatshirt. He's talking to me. He likes my sweatshirt. Is it because I am jiggling? I didn't put on a bra! Oh my, and I blush some more.

I look down again at my sweatshirt. It's like 10 years old and I stole it from my younger brother and it's gray and black and it says Polo Jeans Co. Ralph Lauren. Not sexy, not cute, not clingy, not attractive. I haven't showered in two days, my hair is kept back by a pair of sunglasses. Hell, I haven't even washed my face!

The only thing I can think of to say is, "Uh, thanks." Like he was offering up some major compliment, or, oh my God, flirting with me!

In my head, I'm singing: He likes my sweatshirt! He likes my sweatshirt! Cute Pepsi Delivery Guy likes my sweatshirt. I sing through the aisle, doing a secret happy dance.

Later, after I check out, I sneak a peak down Cute Pepsi Delivery Guy's aisle, and there he is, being nice to another person, an employee of the store. I steal a glance at him once more, just to put his face and body--that cute, strong, delivery-guy bod--to memory, and I see, for the first time, why he liked my shirt. He is also wearing a gray Polo shirt. Soulmates! I knew there was something there! Cute Pepsi Delivery Guy and I are soulmates! We are wearing matching shirts! But I immediately dismiss this fantasy because we all know in truth, I am a Diet Coke girl.

Nonetheless, Cute Pepsi Delivery Guy has got me thinking. I wonder if he does this just to make unshowered, mussed-up hair, thirty-something moms shopping at ungodly hours of the day feel better about themselves?

And I have to say, wherever you are Cute Pepsi Delivery Guy, even though it meant nothing to you, just by giving me that little spec of acknowledgment, even if you were just making fun of my fashionista look, even if you were slying joking because I was sans bra and a bit jiggly this morning, thanks. Thanks for noticing!

And with that, my friends, I leave you with the final Manic Mom post of 2005. You can shoot down memory lane by going to the September posts here, and clicking to find my archives, or you can just wait for the future installments of the year 2006, where I will hopefully make one of my dreams come true and get a freaking book deal.

Thank you all for taking the time to stop by Manic Mom's Mental Myriads, and for your fun and endearing comments and suggestions, your feedback and your thoughts. I'd love to hear where you plan to be at midnight, and what you plan to be doing at that moment where the year moves up another digit. And, if you're reading this post-2005 and hungover, what did you do to ring in the New Year?

Hope 2006 brings you happy memories, healthy days and whatever in life makes you happiest!
Buh-Bye.