This little piggy went to market

"Dinner for Two" He says

"Over my dead body" She says

If today isn't officially the world's longest Friday on record, then call me crazy because I have been functioning, it seems, for hours. I've had to pop a left over percocet, scored from a party last weekend to try and calm down. I don't know why I'm so worked up, perhaps it has to do with the fact that I am an idiot. Let me explain to you how I know I am an idiot by presenting you with this sorry little scenario:

Scene 1:

Hot, hot, hot guy standing at hot, hot, hot soup section in Gourmet Garage in SoHo.

In walks, tired 30 something lady, looking a little weary but reasonably approachable in new spring jacket. The lady is hungry, she's really hungry. She shouldn't be, but she is.

The lady makes a beeline for the aforementioned soup section. She has seen the boy but not really seen the boy, if you know what I mean. She's been off her game a little recently and is thinking that maybe she has lost her mojo.

She reaches for the super size container and starts to weigh up her options. She knows she should have the lentil soup, but it seems a bit boring for a Friday night. You know what you can do with your ten vegetable soup, says the voice in her head. She chuckles, that voice inside her head can be so funny sometimes. The beef and barley has her name on it, she can see that now. It's raining outside and the consistency comforts her immediately and she dives right on in.

She's only two scoops in, the ladle working it's magic, filling the ginormous cup full of hearty beef and barley when she remembers the hot, hot, hot guy standing by her side. He's watching her. She immediately feels fat. I was too eager, she thinks. Did I knock him out of the way to get to the beef? Shit...I think I did. I think she did.

The lady is starting to freak out and knows the only thing that will calm her down is a cookie, a chocolate chip one, only two isles away.....

Suddenly the hot, hot, hot boy says to the hungry, crazy lady " Is that your dinner tonight?" and nods towards the hideously massive soup the mental lady is holding in her hand. "Ummmmmmm", she says.

"Is that for you and your boyfriend", the cheeky little Pete Wenzesque dude says to her.

The bat shit crazy lady starts silently freaking out again. This is a potential opening, she is thinking. She must answer this question correctly, her night depends on it.

But what should she say? Does she lie and say , "Yes, this surely is a soup serving for two, I couldn't possibly be eating this all by myself". Or does she say "No" and deliver a bulimia inspired monologue about how she hasn't eaten all day, back to back meetings, this soup will probably last me until at least the summer etc blah blah blahhh rah rah rah. Is bulimia still even cool, she wonders and stares off into the distance.

A little while later (4 hours in her mind, in reality, just 2 seconds), she looks at the boy, smiles coyly and says "uhsndfgefifohfnfhivvvudwe", drops her umbrella, (but not her soup), bends down to pick it up, still with the alphabet running backwards in her mind and returns to an upright position, where the boy is gone.

Damn it, she thinks. He was cute. She was idiot. And you can't cuddle soup.