Keep Imagining

The other day I was in need of a remedy - an ink stain to be specific.  Where in the Heloise can I find out how to get rid of the stain left on my favorite jeans?

I told my lovely wife that a pen had snapped in the pocket of my favorite jeans (yes snapped - not leaked) She immediately said I needed to spray it with hair spray.  Unaware of ink's hatred, for specially formulated mists that provide strong hold with "brushability" I lovingly mentioned to her that being a BALD man I did not have any on hand.

It was decided that a trip to Wal-mart was in order.  We can't have the ink just sitting there in the denim without a good dousing of hydro-fluorocarbons! I hopped in the car, grabbed the inevitable list and headed off.  Remember dear reader, I have raging ADHD - not the "joke about it with your friends at work" ADHD - the real deal nasty neurological disorder that allows me to be distracted by a shiny bug should one happen by. So it never occurred to me that I'd have to find out where in Wal-mart hair spray would be stored.  In the end I just followed the coiffures.

So now I am standing in the Shampoo and Hair spray aisle and a new thought strikes me - I have no idea where in the aisle to look!  I'm in a sea of products - conditioners, mousses, hair putty - what in the name of Sam Hill is hair putty?  I just want a big old cheap can of TV preacher hair spray!  You know the one that gets rid of ink!

So I do what every other man my age would in a similar situation.  I walk up and down the aisle scanning for signs of hair spray.  Glassy eyed I stagger, back and forth -  surfing my obligatory cart , in and out of the soccer moms and their attendant sets of Brittany's.

All of a sudden I become aware of stifled laughter.  You know the kind of laughter that makes you choke because it would be rude or possible hurtful to some one if you let it out.  Like when grandma's dress get's caught in her panty hose - you don't want to laugh - but you can't help it.

I catch the eye of the woman who was chortling and as I do - she is unable to contain herself and flat out laughs.  It is then that I realize she is laughing at me.  She's trying to answer one question - "What's the bald guy doing, why is he even here?" 

There I was in a Wal-mart  big enough to have it's own weather standing amid all of the hair products.  I would have looked less conspicous in the maternity department.

So I explain - "Blah blah pen, blah blah ink, blah blah jeans, hair spray."  Oh hairspray!  Undoubtedly this is something given much press in womens publications.  She is consummately helpful and points me to the cheapest brand in the joint.(Oddly enough, endorsed by BOTH Jack Van Impe AND Robert Tilton!?) anyway,  amid onlookers and the odd sales associate I sheepishly make my way out, and head home to spray my jeans with vigor.  When I do - nothing happens.  The formation of my chagrin seems to be the exact amount of time needed for ink to set in denim.  I'm not convinced that the stain will ever come out now - even under the gifted attention of my beautiful bride.  But at least the lady at Wal-mart has a story to tell her husband at dinner.

Ok now I am a total techno nerd. I have crossed the line and posted my blog wirelessly. This is so sad. Soon it will all be in 'lete speak. ugh. And if you even KNOW what that is you're probably a nerd too.