Band-Aids

The last time I bought band-aids, I got some cool kid-friendly ones.  I am pretty cheap, so that doesn't happen very often.  It's usually the hard plastic variety that don't bend or breathe, are not waterproof or clear, and just basically stop the bleeding long enough for the band-aid to fall off.  Besides, we all know that if we buy the fun band-aids, they're gone in, like, 17 hours because everyone has a life-threatening cut that can only be soothed by Curious George.  Even while I've been sitting here with the box of band-aids next to me (I need visual aids), my daughter came over and just took one for no reason.  Her reason?  "I had a pimple on my elbow."  Sounds kind of fishy to me.

Well, for some silly reason, I have been getting many more paper cuts and hangnails than usual, and I neglected to purchase any grown-up band-aids.  So guess what I've been wearing?  Yup, it's a toss up between Disney Princesses or Spiderman.

Yesterday, I went grocery shopping.  I don't usually get too gussied up just to buy toilet paper and mac & cheese, but I try to look like I at least care a little bit.  So, I showered, shaved, put on some deodorant and enough makeup to cover up my chin whiskers (I really can't wait until I can afford laser hair removal).  After bandaging up a small nick that I sustained while shaving, I was ready to go.

I went to many different stores in my quest to obtain vittles for the brood.  (Believe it or not, that word is really spelled "victuals", but who on earth would know what I was trying to say if I didn't spell it phonetically?)  (Also, can you tell by my lavish use of parenthetical sentences, that I have severe ADD?)


I even went to Kohls - my favorite store in the Universe, case you didn't know - with the pretense of returning a few items.  But for me to leave Kohls without an actual purchase is inconceivable.  That's what my Kohls credit card is for, right?  I managed to find 2 dresses and 3 pairs of shoes.  (Don't judge me - I haven't bought new shoes for myself since. . . well, never mind.  Just don't judge me.) Oh yeah, and I guess I picked up a few things for Father's Day, too.

Once the errands were completed, I loaded myself into my van with all my goodies.  I looked down at my leg and noticed a little white sticker, which happened to be only slightly whiter than my Michigan pallor.  It stared up at me in bold black letters, a band-aid shaped like a skateboard (which is really not that unusual, come to think of it) that read,

Skateboarding is not a Crime!