Today I saw the foxiest produce man at Giant Eagle. And by "man", I mean I hope to hell he was at least 18 because my thoughts were impure and very very acrobatic in nature.
He was so good looking in that tall, muscular, strong-jawed and tanned way that is straight out of a romance novel.
And boy, could he handle the peaches. See how I didn't default to the pedestrian "melon" comment right there? You're welcome.
But anyway, back to my boy/man lust. I spent a lot of time in that section, carefully looking over all the fruits and vegetables and trying to keep my pants up.
Because they wanted to come down.
There are so so so many bad puns that could be had right now. I shall forgo them and give you something to do, coming up with them yourself.
I have a feeling that we are going to be well-stocked up in the fruits & veggies this summer. I'll make sure of it, if I have to go grocery shopping Every. Single. Day. I owe it to My Mister, so he doesn't get rickets. Or scurvy. I'm doing it for him, Reader.
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