You say tomato, i say you crazy

If i didn't know me, i'd swear that half the stories on this blog were made up. It's kinda like how in a soap opera you have that one character who has come back from the dead, been kidnapped, had her baby daddy's DNA results switched with her brother, found out she had an evil twin and spent half a year in a coma and you can't help but wonder how the heck do folks expect you to believe ALL that crap would happen to one person?!

I'm sure some of you ask yourselves the same thing about me when i tell some of the random things strangers say to me. But i swear, it's all true. I even find myself avoiding strangers because i know there's no way i can explain yet another "random stranger said this to me" story. But for some reason strangers love saying the weirdest crap to me.

Take this past Sunday in Wally World for example:

James and i are in the produce sections grabbing our last few items before we head to our Mother's Day lake picnic. I'm carrying River (mistake #1, he is a weirdo magnet! well, he's so dang cute that he attracts everyone, but weirdos love him) and checking out the tomatoes.
A normal looking lady walks up and starts looking at the tomatoes too. The maters were actually really nice looking, which i guess inspired her to share some randomness with me:

Crazy tomato lady: These look good!
ReRe: Yea, they actually do.
Crazy tomato lady: My grandpa used to grow the biggest, best tomatoes. My mom would just go out to the garden with a salt shaker, grab a tomato and eat it up right there in the garden.
ReRe: I bet that was nice!
Crazy tomato lady: Well, not really. He was an abusive man who beat the crap out of her daily and withheld food so tomatoes were actually the only thing she really ate.
ReRe (i just stare blankly at her. i have no clue what to say for awhile): Man...that sucks.
Crazy tomato lady: Yea...but the tomatoes were gorgeous.

Seriously?!

I either need to stop taking River to the grocery store or stop wearing my "I like to blog about your craziness, please come talk to me" shirt.

Oh, so that's where babies are made!

I'll admit it. I have a cute kid. Even if he wasn't mine, i'd still think he was a cutie patootie. I also admit that our shopping trips take at least a half-hour longer because folks want to oogle him. We get the expected comments "He's so cute" "look at those big brown eyes" "i love his hair" etc.

But we got the strangest comment/conversation during a recent shopping trip. River and I were perusing the pharmacy section while James waited on a prescription. A guy who could probably replace Bernie Mac in the Kings of Comedy smiled at me a few times and nodded at River. He mumbled. Most folks wouldn't have known what he said, but since I have a lot of uncles (and a daddy) who could be members of the Kings of Comedy, i speak southern-drawl-black man. He was saying River was a good looking young man.

When James walked up to us, Pharmacy Bernie Mac gave James a fist bump (i was proud that James knew what to do!). While fist bumping, Bernie Mac said:

That's a good looking boy you got there. You didn't get him from Wal-Mart. Nope, that kid was made in the bedroom!

And then he did a creepy grunt/giggle.

How do you respond to that?! James, who doesn't speak southern-drawl-black man, didn't think he heard him correctly. But oh yeah, that's what he said.

So yes ladies and gents, you do not get Rivers at Wally World. They are strictly made in the bedroom.