You realize you’re in a grocery store, right? I get that the melons get your motor runnin’, but good lord, there are children here! I don’t understand why making your way through one aisle of cereal necessitates a match of tonsil hockey. There are totally acceptable times to smooch. One of them is not on Sunday morning in every aisle of the grocery store when I unfortunately happen to be following your trajectory through the store. Especially when you’re still vaguely hungover and smell a bit like Ke$ha probably smells most days–a combination of Jack and vomit. I get that you’re, oh, I don’t know, newly in-love or something, but just cool it and quit groping each other. Does she really need a butt pinch near the Campbell’s Soup? Does he need an exaggerated arm squeeze by the ketchup? A butt pat by the baked beans? Next thing I know you’re gonna be motor boating her while stocking up on macaroni and cheese! Can’t you just put your arms around each other like a normal couple and be cute instead of acting like you’re filming some kind of fresh produce porno?