One of the items on my husband's Christmas list is Pig Spit. Don't ask...I have no idea. Off I went to Doc's Harley Davidson today, the mecca of hogs in the St. Louis area. Take that anyway you want to. My husband doesn't own a Harley - gasp - but the Victory dealership is pretty far away. So I figured pig spit is pig spit. Right? I got to Doc's around 9 this morning, and a perky young woman behind the counter asked if she could help me. Yes, indeed..."I'll take some pig spit, please." "What?", she asked. "Pig spit", I repeated. "What is it?"she questioned. "I don't know, but it is on my husband's Christmas list", I replied. "Does it go on the motorcycle?", she persisted. "I have absolutely no idea", I responded, thinking to myself that it better be going on the bike and not on him. Gross! "You will have to go back and ask at the parts department, because I have never heard of it", she instructed. That makes two of us. Back in parts a clerk is with a customer who is busy examining every feature of each of the many GPS systems available, while a second clerk is busy shooting the breeze with two men - maybe customers, maybe not. As I try to look interested in all the whosits and whatsits on the shelves, what do I spy but a can of Pig Spit. Now in hog heaven, I snatch it off the shelf and march back up to Perky Clerky, hoping she can check me out before I'm old and gray (okay older and grayer) and need a GPS system to find my way back home. "Huh", she states as she sees the can. That about sums it up. I still have no idea what it is for, but I'm happy to say I didn't break the piggy bank getting it.
