I Am Immature

   20 April 2005, early morning

Carvill needed to buy some shampoo; I needed some solution for my contacts. We were in the pharmacy inside of the Wal-Mart at the Scarborough Town Centre looking for the items in question. While trying to decide what contact solution to buy, two middle-aged woman approached me; one of the women was Middle-Eastern, the other Indian. They walked past me, and stood a few feet away looking at another shelf of pharmaceutical products. The Indian woman worked at the store, and was helping the Middle-Easter woman find what she was looking for. I started to laugh—quietly, to myself, but laugh nevertheless. I looked over to Mezan, who was busy entertaining himself looking at random stuff on the shelf next to the shelf with all the contact solution; he hadn’t noticed what I had noticed. What was the woman buying? KY-Jelly. And it wasn’t for her, it was for her mother.



  1. That hardly counts as immature Ram. If you had started laughing out loud and then squirted them with another tube of KY, that would’ve been closer.

  2. I agree with Victor.

    I wonder if her mother was having trouble getting a ring off her finger. =P

  3. Then there was the woman who rammed the shopping cart into the shelves. That was pretty funny too.

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