My milkshake brings all the milk men to the yard.

So, last Thursday I was doing the freelance thing when someone started knocking on my door. I jumped up, opened the door, and was greeted by a guy who looked quite a bit like my best friend from college’s brother. But it wasn’t.

Me: Hi.

Guy: Hello there! My name is Lou, and I want to be your milk man.

Please know that his name isn’t really Lou (it’s Scott). I’m just using Lou to maintain anonymity (you know, for Scott), and I chose Lou because it sounds like a milk man’s name. And that reminds me: Do you remember these guys? Because I do. (They also did a tune titled “Watching Scotty Die” which I believe was playing on the Bobby Goldsboro tune titled “Watching Scotty Grow” and that song never fails to make me tear up. And while we’re crying, how about this one? Holy crap. Where was I?)

So, Lou went on and on about the milk thing and he sang songs about hormones and free-range and “no delivery fee for six months!” And “I’ll waive  your cooler deposit!” And “I’ll bring you some milk and coffee samples!” And, disturbingly, “You’re the nicest person I’ve talked to all day!” (Admittedly, I am very nice. Mostly.)

I told him I would check with Jeff (because, you know, he is the Bread Winner and I never skip the chance to mention My Husband) and call him back the next day.

And I checked with Jeff. And I called Lou back the next day.

Lou: Hello?

Me: Hi. My name is Angela Pudding (that’s not really my last name) and you came by here yesterday, and…

Lou (totally interrupting me, like we’re buddies or something): Angela! That’s right! Hey! I’m in traffic so I’ll need to call you back in ten minutes.

And he called me back, and I told him that I wanted to start off with a standing order of two half-gallons of 2% and a dozen eggs. And our connection was sort of clicky and weird, and suddenly Lou yelled, “I’m not speaking to my wife right now, and she keeps clicking in!”

Oh, Lou. Please don’t make this uncomfortable.

Me: Okay then. Anyway, the milk and the eggs? Are we good to go?

On Saturday, he delivered milk and coffee samples.

Today he delivered the two half-gallons of milk, the eggs, and the cooler. And instead of just leaving them on the front porch like he said he would (perhaps he was confused because we don’t really have a porch. It’s more of a sidewalk, really.), he knocked.

Me: Hi, Lou.

Lou: My boss was going to bring these by, but he got called out of town, so I thought I would take over for him!

Me: Excellent.

Lou: Free-range eggs and two half-gallons of 2% and your cooler!

(Awkward silence.)

Me: YouCannotComeIntoMyHouseLou.

Lou: What?

Me: See you next week. If I don’t answer, feel free to just leave everything in the cooler! The cooler is awesome! I can’t wait to see how it works!

So, now we have a milk man. AND, hopefully he’ll provide me with material, because I’m really starting to stretch, and I don’t want to get all “Ask me anything!” because I don’t think anyone would ask me anything. Do you remember my Cadillac of a dishwasher? It’s broken! Do you want to hear about it? Because I’m conducting a plastic spoon experiment over here! Anyway.


I’m drinking lots of juice and diving into the Tropicana Juicy Rewards Program. (AND giving away a $50 Visa gift card!) You can follow along by following this link! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

10 thoughts on “My milkshake brings all the milk men to the yard.”

  1. I want a milkman! I have to go to a grocery store I don’t even like specifically to get milk, and then go to my good grocery store to buy everything else.

    However, I would like a non-creepy milkman.

  2. Real deal Milk is so much better than that mixed-together, plastic tasting, bleeeech-stuff they sell in stores now a-days. We pay alot more but we buy milk from the Shatto milk company –

    Yummy, glass bottles and all.
    It might just be worth dealing with spooky-Lou.

  3. My dad was a milkman when I was a baby! He has great milkman stories.

    Possibly a dumb question but why not just a gallon of 2% milk? You’re a mystery!

  4. So, this is life for a blogger. You end up hooked up with a creepy milkman with boundary issues and you go YAY! Blog material.

  5. I want a milkman! Maybe it’s lonely work, and he was really jazzed to happen upon someone as lovely (inside and out) as you. That is how I would take it for now, until and unless the awkwardness stretches a bit farther.

    I would love to have lots of help to run my life. Groceries delivered to the house! Cleaning people! Lawn and landscape people! Laundry people!

    Alas, my husband and I are all of those people. And let me tell you – we’re tired.

  6. We’ve had a milkman for over six years. I know this because we got our first delivery two days before Clara Jane was born. Which means I spent my due date eating chocolate almond ice cream from the carton and being pissed off that I wasn’t giving birth, already.

    Our milkmen (former house and current) don’t make eye contact. The current one literally runs onto the porch, ditches our stuff in the cooler, and sprints back to his still-running truck. Just the way I like it.

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