Phil 'er up

Dinner is waiting, so I don't want to write a whole lot less it get cold, but I also think maybe this next little nugget of info or enlightenment has to jotted down for posterity. This is probably the best place for it too since it does cover some not so family rated material (and yet it does).

Alright, so I'm getting out of work and decide to stop by the store to pick up a few supplies needed (shampoo, paper towels, a new set of bulbs, and some bread). I'm in the bread aisle, pressing away at the little loafs to see which one is the least hard/stale when I feel a little press on my shoulder.

Maybe the bread has decided to fight back?

Nope, instead I turn to see the hand connected to the one making a squeeze at my shoulder and well--it's well let's call him uh Phil (no real names right, how else can we protect the innocent).

Phil (for those of you who don't know me, and LOTS of you don't), was a guy I used to see my freshmen year of university. I say see, because it sounds a lot better than saying an slightly older guy I used to mess around with while I pined and waited for another to notice me.

Nice nice guy, really good looking too. Probably TOO GOOD looking actually (I should write about that another time).

Anyway, Phil doesn't live here, but by some freak chance happened to be down on business/visting...also happened to be shopping at the store closest to my route home...

It's interesting, but all the while he's catching me up on his life (as much as a person can in a manner of 1 min), I can't for the life of me stop staring at a giant stain on his shirt.

It's like a weird color too. Not really chocolate, not really mud, maybe paint or soy sauce? Maybe all of those things combined?

And it's not like a freak kind of stain either...there's almost a controlled chaos about it....

I'm looking at it so much, I begin to wonder and hope an appiratition shows up: Like the face of Jesus or Elvis.

Now wouldn't that be something?

Well, I guess Phil notices and then covers the stain with his hand and smiles.

Then he pulls at the shirt so I can get a better look at it.

Gleaming that million dollar smile he's always had and says, "Yeah, my kid. She spilled stuff on me. I don't think I've had a stain free wardrobe since maybe last fall...when she couldn't walk."

Wow, Phil has a kid!

Wow, someone I used to see is a DAD now?!!

Holy cow maybe I am sterile! (If people I used to see have kids now...what does that say about me? Of course we don't know if...well I digress).

We hug, we promise to catch up later. Maybe email or something (yeah that's probably not going to happen) and then go our seperate routes.

I'm making my way to the register, people of all ages (many of them young) are just more amplified in the store. Many of them with little kids hanging off of them like vines and monkeys.

Phil is one of them...he's marked even, and he's happy about it.

I see the little blonde tot in a shopping cart being pushed by Phil's wife...who strangely (in a maybe what if scenario)kind of looks like me if i were older,taller and had a penchant for sleeveless shirts.

I guess he tells her I was a school friend, cause she smiles and waves at me.

I'm pretty sure he didn't tell her the nature of our relationship.

I'm trying not to think about Phil naked as I wave to his nice wife and kid. Not an easy task, because I think I have a mind like a steel trap about those kinds of things.

Hey someone shows you their goods (and boy were they goodies), you're going to remember.

But that's another story and my food is getting cold.

Phil...and having a fill of it.