Poor Shopper

That I am a poor shopper goes without saying. My wife will ask, "Did you pick out some good ones?"
I always say yes, but all tomatoes pretty much look the same to me. The same with other produce.
The same with blue jeans. Dark blue, light blue, this kind of fit, that kind of fit, who cares? Too many choices. Just pick one.
The wife is petrified when I wander into Jos. A. Bank for they can sell me anything. Your card, not mine, she orders. How about this shirt the sales lady says as she holds it up to me. Sure, looks good to me.
Any sales person looking to make their quota loves to see me coming. I've got sucker written all over me. It coulda been Moe, Larry, Curley, and Fred.