Finger Lickin' Crazy

We now take a break from our regularly-scheduled chronological storytelling to flash forward to a now five-month pregnant and newly engaged Prego and her beloved.

By this time, A and I were finally officially engaged. Yes, he was going to make an honest woman out of me. Rather than planning a full-on wedding, we decided to go to Vegas and tie the knot -- something that really didn't surprise anyone who knew either or both of us. Part of this planning process included buying wedding bands, something we decided to do on a day we were both off work.

We opted to take my car with me at the helm. A frequently mocks my driving, and I'll admit it, I drive like shit. I drive with the craziness of an elderly blind woman combined with the reckless disregard for human life of a NASCAR driver. I am an asshole driver, and put me in situations of higher volume traffic and added frustration or distractions, I really can't promise the safety of anyone in or out of my car.

We were relying on the directions provided by A's phone to find the jewelry store. Just a note, don't rely on directions provided by a 3" by 4" piece of plastic and microchips. Also, when looking for a location you've previously never been to, don't allow a crazy pregnant woman behind the wheel.

So after driving back and forth in front of the same strip mall where I was convinced the store was, we were discovering there was no store. No jewelry store in sight. We drove around the area. Surveyed the area. Went into little strip malls that we were about 90% certain the store was not located. I was pissed. I was frustrated. I just wanted to find the goddamn store and buy the goddamn wedding band for my goddamn fiance'. My car was almost out of gas, I was frustrated, tired, hungry, and getting cranky fast.

I don't remember what A said or did, but I snapped. I'd fucking had it. And A, never one to put up with my shit (which 99% of the time is something I've always loved about him), and he in no uncertain terms let me know that I was crossing the fine line between loving, darling, demure fiance' and Crazy Fucking Pregnant Bitch.

It was at this point I, for all intensive purposes, lost my proverbial shit. I was crying. Nay, I was sobbing. Snot, tears, and saliva everywhere. I was crying because I couldn't find the jewelry store. I was crying because I'd lost my temper with the person I love more than anything in this world. I was crying because I was hungry and tired and needed a nap. I cried for my unborn child having a seatbelt across her head. I cried for Ohio State losing to Florida. I cried for runt puppies not being able to reach their mother dog's teat, for kittens that can't unravel a ball of yarn, for the Indian who just saw you litter on the side of the road. I cried for the simple fact that I'd forgotten what I was crying about.

We finally found a jewelry store. Not the one we were originally looking for, no, this was a scary ghetto-looking jewelry store with bars on the windows and Korean people inside. I was still a puffy, red, sobbing mess, still trying to get a grib on myself, when I sobbingly (yes, it's a word, don't tell me it's not or I swear to God I'll cry again) said we can't shop for wedding bands when I'm obviously crying. So A sat and waited for me to compose myself. But as soon as he'd say something like, "Are we good? Are you okay now?" I would lose it all over again. At this point, the jewelry store was going to be closing in five minutes.

"What do you want?" A asked.

Given the situation, one would assume he was asked what I wanted the next course of action to be. Do we seek out an open jewelry store? Do we go into this store despite the fact it's about to close? Do we give up? That would be what you'd think he was asking. But my response was...

*long, snotty, tear-filled, loogie-sounding, longest inhale ever* "I WANT CHICKEN!!!!" *SOB!!!*

And so, we went to KFC because all I wanted at that point was extra crispy recipe chicken legs and KFC macaroni and mashed potatoes. I wanted the damn buffet. I paid for dinner as my apology for being Crazy Pregnant Bitch. And as I stood in front of the buffet, I felt tears welling up again to the point that they couldn't be controlled.

Not because I was happy. Though the sight was pleasant. Nay, it was just because they didn't have macaroni on the buffet.

So I sat through dinner like a four-year-old that has just been spanked, occasionally sniffling and hiccuping and eating my mashed potatoes with a look of resentment previously unknown.

We never went wedding band shopping again. The internet is a wonderful thing.