Put your hand down, fool, I won't choose anything over Home Depot.
No, I'm not fond of this store because I'm a crafty gal. I wish that were the case. I actually break anything that comes within a five meter radius of me. I'm quite destructive.
I love Home Depot because it brings back some very good memories and it smells like new home (plus, I'm Mexican... it seems it runs in my blood to love this sort of thing).
I'll play around with almost anything, and I'll start getting all these awesome home-make-over ideas (which of course, I never undertake because I'm also very... very much a procrastinator).
Anyway, whenever a parent needs an extra hand at this store, I'm the offspring who will be called on for help (most often it's Mom since she hates going there by herself. Dad will take me when he needs someone to act like a Colombian mule for a couple of minutes).
Well, last Tuesday (I'm only telling this story because of something I saw on Family Guy this evening) Mom invited me to go with her to Home Depot in search for some closet-building stuff (yeah, my closet is STILL broken... for a second time! Damn closet!).
So we get there, and we're looking.
I was entertained by door knobs (... yeah... I know... why??) while mom looked for screws.
Once I saw, touched, and played with all the door knobs, I went back to Mom, who still hadn't found what she was looking for.
We had a talk about nails and screws (why is this so... euphemisms abound in my head right now) and we got to talking about why my closet collapsed in the first place (and let the euphemisms continue, I say!! I swear I'm not doing this on purpose) and I realized Mom had just nailed/screwed the wall wherever she pleased (dear God, get this out of my head!).
So I began to search for a Stud Finder.
Mom thought I was lying; how can such a thing exist?!
I was unsuccessful (as I always am) in my search, and I guess us two Mexicans looked very lost in this huge Home Depot (that's a first), because this really nice-looking (as in: kind, humble, sweet, etc. While he didn't look bad, per se, he had that "happily married man who'll be nice to you because he doesn't care about chicks anymore" look) man probably in his mid-thirties approached us.
Guy: Can I help you ladies in anything?
Me: Yeah... Where can I find the Stud Finders?
(Guy smiles)
Guy: You don't seem to have a problem with that.
(I stare blankly)
Guy: (laughs a little) Aisle...
(I don't hear the last part because my brain goes "OOO!! I get what you said! You called yourself a stud... right?")
We didn't buy a Stud Finder, my closet's still broken, and I feel bad for the poor guy who tried to crack a joke but ended up feeling dumb because I was too dumb to catch his joke.
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