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July 22, 2008
you'll really like them
Two great mysteries vex me.
1) What is a guy supposed to do with his extra arm while spooning? His choices are to lie on it, which lasts about 4 minutes until the embolism occurs, or to contort it awkwardly over his head, thereby wrenching it out of its socket. Both are painful. Guys, any solutions? Amputation is on the table.
2) How did Whole Foods ever earn its halo? I've never had a meal originally purchased there that wasn't conspicuous in its utter flavorlessness. The Louisiana Hot Sausage tasted exactly like the bangers I bought for the kids, which is to say, like Indianapolis tap water. The meat sucks. The produce sucks. The choices of staples suck. And the people who shop there are plastic, pretentious, tasteless, soulless fucks who suck.
You ain’t artsier than me
'Cause you only read books, don’t watch tv.
You ain't artsier than me
'Cause you shop at Whole Foods
In open-toed shoes
- "Artsy" by eDIT with the Grouch
"My neighbors are coming," Kelly told me. "They're a hoot. You'll really like them."
Why do people promise me this? I hate everyone.
I didn't pay attention to their names during the introductions, so let's call them Ken and Barbie. While I prepped bland food in the kitchen, they and our hosts stood on the deck and drank wine. At one point I expressed hope that Whole Foods would come through, for once, and you would have thought I'd insulted Barbie's messiah. "I LOVE WHOLE FOODS WHAT'S WRONG WITH WHOLE FOODS?" I told her that the food sucks. She concluded that yes, she could see why I wouldn't want to go there. "Yes, they're very expensive."
It was officially time to pay attention to Barbie. She's your prototypical eastside kept woman, with her freakishly unnatural yellow hair, Versace capris (!), and yes, open toed shoes. At Whole Foods, I had just been bumped into, without acknowledgment, by a dozen of her self-centered ilk. I know Barbie.
After meditating on my single status for everyone's amusement, she moved on to dogs. In that among the options I'm considering is getting a purebred dog, I am the devil. "There are so many puppies available for adoption, we'll be sure to find you one," she said. "Don't get a purebred. That's irresponsible and I could never do that when the world has so—"
I was then I stopped listening. I have this speech memorized. As this stranger shoved food that I'd purchased and prepared for her into her cry-hole, I reflected that she's a living metaphor. She actually bit that hand that was in the process of feeding her.
If you're cool with me, then I'll look past the void in you.
- Same song
posted by john at 7:46 AM • permalink