Too tired, too hungry, too broke, too crowded too many other thing to do - the excuses I've used to avoid grocery shopping. They're getting as floppy as his old underwear, and he probably feels just as much breeze up his butt when I use them. The basis of the problem is that he loves to shop for food and he fantasizes I should too. I've raced the cart complete with sound effects, conducted hemorrhoid cream opinion polls with fellow shoppers, and arranged the vegetables into arousing artwork. I have finally realized that's why he keeps dragging me along - comic relief.