The Lynx Java Blues
The latest familial memory that has escaped from the mindbleach is this quirk from my dad.

When I was a wee kiddy and before my first conviction, we all used to go shopping at our local Safeways every Saturday afternoon. On Saturday morning, my dad would make the shopping list. This was a very serious business, as if you weren’t present to outline your case, then you couldn’t have it. Don’t get me wrong, my dad wasn’t mean. If you could justify it in person, then it would go on the list and you could have it with no problems.

But if it wasn’t on the list, then oh dear. Oh dearie me.

This used to lead to horrendous situations whereby I would be playing with my friends at someone’s house on a Saturday morning then I would suddenly realise with bowel-gripping horror that it was almost list writing time. I would have to peg it around to my house to grab my empty tube of hair gel and request another one in order to avoid the ignominy of having flat un-spiked hair, or to squirt the stale butane out of my can of Lynx Java to prove that I needed another can.

My father did used to come unstuck sometimes as he lived by the sword and died by the sword.

I will never forget one Saturday afternoon where me, my two sisters, and mother would physically restrain him from picking up safety razors as they weren’t on the list.

We must have looked like loonies.

BUT THEY WEREN’T ON THE LIST DAD, SO NOW WHO’S LAUGHING?

*foams*

*gibbers*

*twitches*
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Tue 25 Nov 2008, 17:06, 2 replies)

so
did he get his own way and get the razors, or did he play by the rules?
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Wed 26 Nov 2008, 10:09, closed)

He didn't get the razors as I recall
But I think he nipped out on his own to get them afterwards and a copy of the racing news.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Wed 26 Nov 2008, 11:52, closed)