Things I Hate: Raspberries

There are a lot of things I hate, but I thought I would focus on the helpless raspberry today. (I mean, you weren’t expecting raspberries, right? You would have thought I’d pick something worthwhile like bigots or people who wear their perfume about ten layers too deep.) Not a harmless ‘tasty’ raspberry.

It’s not that they have seeds in them. Fresh raspberries are okay—not my favorite berry, but not bad. However it’s the artificial scent of raspberries that makes me want to hurl. Always has. Probably something to do with yogurt with the nasty fruity mush at the bottom of the container, usually raspberry being the most popular. *full body shudder* And the most popular scent in Bath & Body Works is Sun-Ripened Raspberry, which when I frequent the store, I grab my standby coconut-lime and race back out the door before the raspberry scent can stink up my clothes. I have co-workers who swear by the crap. “Ooh, smell this, Hellion” and they’ll stick their lotion-slathered hands beneath my nose—and my nose wrinkles up like they stuck a sweaty old man beneath for me to sniff.

Frequently in life, whatever we hate, the gods try to find a way to get us to fall right in the middle of it. Or marry it. And in 2004, the gods were plotting. It was a summer day, and 2004 was my skinny year. WW was working good, and here I was dressed in a short fluttery skirt (that would blow up at the hint of a breeze), cute sunflower patterned underwear (that I thought were cute and would show you even if the skirt wasn’t fluttering: “See my underwear?”), and a pair of white kitten strappy heels. (I had on a shirt obviously. This wasn’t Topless Tuesday or anything, but for the purposes of this tale, those are the three items of clothing that matter.)

I had my sass on, one might say.

Also, as usual, I was running behind. I was supposed to meet Holly at Gold’s, and I needed to run by Gerbes first to pick up a container of sugar-free Nesquik. God forbid I be without my chocolate milk. I was already a bit peeved the other Gerbes didn’t have it when I’d gone shopping the day before. I breezed into the store, catwalking my stride and really putting a pop in my hips. (Seriously, sass all the way.)

I’m halfway to the Nesquik aisle, and I’m suddenly distracted by this Bartle and James’ display. Pina Colada flavored drink, and I distinctly remember thinking, Cool, I have to try….

And that’s exactly where that thought cut off because abruptly my legs flew out from under me—and I hear two guys yelling, “Ma’am! No! Stop!” But there is no stopping. I landed flat on my back. My skirt flew up to my waist, and there are my very cute sunflower panties on display. The two guys, 17 if they were a day, ran up to me. “Ma’am, are you okay?” “Oh, my God, I saw you walking directly for it and we couldn’t get…” “You’re not going to sue us, are you?”

Meanwhile I’m still just laying there, staring dazedly at the ceiling, wondering, What the fuck just happened? And why the hell does it smell like fucking raspberries?

I suddenly realize I’m sitting in the middle of a cold wet spot. The boys help me to my feet, and I’m trying to keep it together—but being I just flashed juvenile delinquents, it’s difficult. I right my skirt and realize I’m dripping with raspberry yogurt. I look at the guys, as I’m assuring them I’m fine and I’m not going to sue them. “We were just coming to clean it up and mark it off so,” the chatty one gives me an apologetic look, “no one would step in it.” Yeah, I stepped in it all right.

“Wait right here, ma’am,” they said, “we’ll go get paper towels.” I now have raspberry yogurt on my hand, and it’s running down my thigh. They leave me as a block in front of the yogurt spill. People who are shopping, pushing carts, see the mess and distinctively walk around the spill. Not one of them notices the Pina Colada Bartle and James. They all do seem to notice I’m dripping raspberries though.

“Oh, careful, Bill, there’s a spill there. Don’t fall…” Woman catches sight of me, eyes widen, then sympathetic smug look: “Gosh, did you fall? Are you okay? It’s right there.” Well, yes, I can see that it’s right there now. Thank you, Captain Obvious.

After a freaking eternity, the boys return with paper towels and I clean myself off. Then I hobble off to get my Nesquik—and so help me if this store didn’t have it, I was going to have some words. Some very colorful, four-letter kind. I look—and they don’t have it! Are you kidding me? I stomp back out of the store and to the gym, this time managing to avoid the yogurt, that the boys are finally cleaning up, and as I pass: “Did you find everything okay, ma’am? You’re not going to…” I glared at them as I passed.

I get to the gym and tell Holler and Brandi about the experience, earning hysterical laughs for the Revelation. So update your Hellion’s gift lists. No to the sun-ripened raspberry lotion. Yes, to sunflower panties.

So what’s your favorite piece of underwear? And has any grocery store clerks seen it yet?