Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Little Thumbs Up for Henry

Last night after returning from a yummy feast to commemorate our meet-a-versary, I started pondering what I might want to write about today. I opened up my little notebook that I always carry and jotted down a bunch of quick burst ideas; something about celery, eggs, soup, bread crumbs and milk. Huh, come to think of it maybe that was just the grocery list and not so much ideas for really rockin’ blog topics. Because I was trying too hard to come up with something interesting, witty and brilliant, I decided to employ Matt to give me a title so I could craft something phenomenal out of it for your reading pleasure.

He pondered the request for a few minutes while updating his Crackbook status and came up with something much too serious sounding. I quickly dismissed it, reminding him what blog this was being posted on, and without missing a beat he uttered the current title of this post. It was just fun enough to be right on the money, just odd enough to be something I would use; there was nothing I could say against it. Damn it.

Now I am even more lost than before and strongly considering falling back on the grocery list, telling everyone about just how much I love celery. Where I bought my last bunch of celery. Why celery is good for weight loss. How to ensure that into every life a little celery must fall. Or something like that.

Maybe I could make up a little story about the bagger at my grocery store being named Henry and after a particularly fantastic job of placing my items in my reusable tote (read: not putting the celery at the bottom of the bag under the cans of soup) I shoot Henry a little thumbs up with a smile like some cheesy end of an 80’s sitcom.

Now that I think about it, there are probably a billion stories I could share about times when I gave or received a thumbs up because 1. I frequently talk with my hands and 2. I enjoy being told I have done well at something -- but the trouble with the blog post concept here is not the thumbs up, it is with Henry.

I do not know anyone named Henry that could act as inspiration, not even in passing, not even a guy I once made out with on the dance floor of some night club fifteen some odd years ago. He told me his name was Ralph. Then again it was at a club and we were making out before we introduced ourselves so he could have been using a fake name. Although Ralph is not exactly the kind of name anyone is fantasizing screaming out in a fit of early twenties passion so it probably really was his name. Regardless, I did not go home with the kid to find out what it sounded like when shouted after "oh God..." What kind of girl do you think I am?

OK in all fairness I sort of used to be that girl, but even in my overly promiscuous youth I knew not to go home with someone whose moniker was Ralph. Never in the history of my dating experience would I have considered a guy named Ralph to be a phenomenal lover. (OK go ahead all you Ralph’s out there, if you are so amazing, prove it. I will watch your silly self made YouTube porn and gladly judge you, bring it on.)

But I digress, sorry Henry. Let us get back to your story, but perhaps instead of being just a grocery store bagger we should beef you up a little bit so you do not fall into the same tragic end as all those poor Ralph’s out there. Miserable. Alone. Not having sex with hot sweaty chics you dance with and French kiss in clubs. Maybe we should make you a superhero.

Henry -- bagger by day, super hero fighting crime by night? The grocery store apron would certainly be one hell of a good disguise. And it could double as his cape. He would run around Arlington saving cats from trees and helping little old ladies to locate the vertical pedal on the right. His superpower would be the ability to perform mind control on everyone driving down Mass Ave to do the speed limit so there was never traffic. The end of each episode would be whoever he saved the night before coming in for groceries and after he does a particularly fine job of bagging, they would give a signature little thumbs up for Henry while he flashes a knowing wink into the camera.


No, even though Superman pulled off Clark, Batman showed the tougher side of Bruce and Peter became a web-slinging building swinger, I still can not conceive of how little old Henry would be able to transform into such a powerhouse of planet saving. It just is not in the name. Sorry man.


Chris said...

It's obvious, Jenn. Henry is a guide dog for blind twin 4 year-old girls, whose names are Emily and Frances. Henry guides them to school and back, and when the two girls finally get home after a long day in class, they plop down on their beanbag chairs, ruffle the fur on the top of Henry's head, and send him off to his own comfy bed by giving two "little thumbs up for Henry."

Joan said...

Without knowing what to write, you wrote a great tale. :)
Thank you for your kind comments on my blog.

Chris Stone said...

lol. i chose not to plant celery this year... but you're making me rethink that! maybe i have enough time to grow some. who knows, maybe a "Ralph" would enter my life....

*i once knew a guy called Ralph....*

Jenn Flynn-Shon said...

Of course, Emily and Frances! How could I have forgotten them and their old pal Henry. Shucks.

Sometimes its all about what we don't say. Actually most of the time that's what its about for me. haha

I guess into every life a little Ralph must fall as well huh? ;-)

Rosebud Collection said...

The only Henry I could think of was a "O Henry" candy bar..and not sure I spelled it right..Oh well, it was a good candy. Now for the celery..Good in salads, but not my favorite..but then again..I now know why the heck I can't lose weight. Always happy to visit your blog..Have a good day..

Karen said...

My first husband's name is Henry. LOL Great story... very creative.