the surgical strike

so basically there is an unwritten law among my group of girls which states we always go to winco on our weekend festivities.

during this brief period of time, we usually speed walk to the cracker isle, pick out a finely crafted box of rosemary and olive oil triskets before we dash madly toward the bulk candy section, where we select sour gummy worms, m&m's, swedish fish, and for ellen's personal indulgence, a toffee and almond symphony bar.

then we saunter over to the bakery for emily to pick up a freshly baked toasted to perfection loaf of french bread, which has to be soft enough to manage when you have $3,000 of metal glued to your teeth.

after that experience, we head over to the drink section, where we pick out our personal favorites from the arizona iced tea family. as soon as we have made our selections (which is quite a lengthy process), we come to the realization that these drinks are better cold at which point we put them back and go to where the are stored chilled at the foot of the check out stand (and yes this happens every time).
after quickly grabbing our cold beverages, we push through the check out and immediately tear through the thin packaging separating us from our beloved junk food.

our ritual is only concluded by an abundance of bread crumbs being flung through the air and landing in precarious positions all over ellen's car, much to her dismay. we also always end up being so lost in animated conversation (and dance moves) that racing anne home to make sure she doesn't blow her curfew is inevitable.