Yesterday I went to my home-field advantage gas station (what up, Kwik Shop on Kasold & Bob Billings!) to pick up a tin of Grizzly wintergreen pouches. Side note: I switched from Skoal to Grizzly over Christmas break in North Dakota by pure accident. While at the bar, I ran out of chew, started bumming Grizzly from Tom because I didn't want to walk down the street to a gas station-- as it was approximately negative one million degrees Fahrenheit-- and fell in love immediately. My five-year deal with Skoal had just expired, so I signed a two-year contract with The Griz on the spot, with a player option for a third year. I might start calling Tom 'Aladdin', because he took me on a magic carpet ride and showed me A Whole New World. I feel like when he offered me that first lipper, he should've held out the tin, flashed his biggest street-rat smile, and said "Do you trust me?" But let's not fall into a super-elaborate Aladdin discussion, or we'll be here all day.
So. Back to the gas station. The girl in front of me in line pays for her gas and asks for a tin of Grizzly wintergreen pouches. The man behind the counter makes an obligatory joke about the girl's husband being too lazy to get out of the car to get his own chew, and the woman kinda scoffs, rolls her eyes, and says "No, actually....it's for me." Cue awkward silence. The girl gets her merch, and apparently offended, she stomps out the door. The employee looks at me and gives his best "Sorry for partying" look. I shrug, step up to the counter, and say the only thing that pops into my head at the moment: "Ummm, I'll have what she's having."
I got a hearty laugh and a high five from the guy behind the counter, so at the risk of tooting my own horn, I think I nailed the joke.
{Editor's update: I relayed this story to Tom, and his response was "Yeah, I had a girl bum a grizzly pouch off me on Sunday at a country concert." Dude. Unbelievable. In Dave Chappelle voice: "Women be chewin', baby! Women be chewinnnnnn!!!!!"}
