I should really have a whole section just for Bret Michaels. That being said, this morning I was at the grocery store and there was this woman shopping with her child who was well, noticeable. I mean, let’s just say that at 9:30 in Giant Eagle I don’t really expect people to be rocking denim mini-skirts and black stilettos. Not that there’s anything wrong with that of course. I just don’t expect it.
But this lady was rockin’ those duds indeed, along with a v-neck pink sweater just low enough to reveal an ample set of artificial cleavage. She also had long dyed black hair and orange skin. Of course she did. But you know, as is the case during grocery shopping we kept running into each other and she seemed very pleasant (haha but seriously I have no basis for saying that except for the fact that she commented on how cute Baby Girl is). Also, her long-haired son kept shrieking for no apparent reason, so I was totally sympathizing with her because that really sucks when your kid keeps screaming in the store.
Now let’s just say that given her look, the show Rock of Love did cross my mind. But who I am to stereotype? Right?
Well, up at the old cash register, I ended up in line right behind her and the cashier dude said something about her little boy’s long hair. And then he said “It’s just like Bret Michaels.” Now how the thick, curly hair of a 3-year old boy could be anything like Mr. Michaels’ lovely bandana extensions is beyond me. But wow, once Bret Michaels entered the conversation, this lady just opened right up. For the next few minutes as the cashier rang up her seemingly endless order of lime seltzer water and fruit snacks, she went on and on about Bret. “He’s from here you know,” she said, then launched into his support of the American Diabetes Association and how much he likes the Steelers and how good his music is. And then she showed off her tattoo inspired by Every Rose Has Its Thorn. She also said, several times, that “we” watch all his shows. And I really hope by “we” she meant her and her boyfriend or her and her husband or her and her girlfriends.
But let me just say that I’m not judging at all. I mean, seriously, who am I to judge? About five minutes later in the parking lot as I furiously worked to load the car, Baby Girl poked a hole in a bag and took a big ol’ bite of raw ground beef.
A banner day at the grocery store, indeed.