Current Musical Selection: Bob Dylan - In My Time of Dyin'

well there are many reasons why i hate going out in public. grocery shopping never used to be one. i like it. its actually fun. not nearly as much fun as browing through the gun store, liquor store, or porno store; but it has its moments. the reason i like the grocery store is the people that shop there entertain me so much. well almost as much as the shit they sell.

i was looking for cereal when to my distaste, i found myself at the end of an audio assault by some screaming little demon in a stupid plastic car/grocery cart. it didnt end either. instead the handler/caregiver replied; "my you make such great noises" with a gleeful tone. i should have said something then, but i looked up instead. hair in a crew cut, nose piercing, saggy pants, bandana hanging out of left pocket, and rainbow buttons on everything; i found my self staring down 1/2 of lesbian parental unit. the second half came galloping past later. both began some interesting banter about needing to re-roof the house this summer. i laughed outloud. after that i stopped paying attention. it was the thought of these two attempting to climb ladders withou a purpose of hanging pride banners, that forced my concentration to the task at hand. that or the fucking rodent in the cart that blew my ear drums apart. my next task is to conquer what he have already conquered.

im looking onwards to the corner of the store that i like to call, "Food From Places We Beat In Wars" ... you know it as "foreign foods". its comical how they have been arranged in historically accurate order, England (1812), Mexico (1848), Italian, German (1945), and various Orientals (1954, 1975)... but i guess the casual shopper never notices what the trained eye does. instead i poke around examing the differences in refried beans as some fratfags approach on my six. "dude, i barfed once, and it looked like beans" "heh heh" "heheh" too bad they dont understand the patriots of our great country, that brutalized the world to bring them the metaphor they so eloquently attempt to employ. i know better. i took 2 cans, and shed a tear for my fallen countrymen who died in the glorious pursuit of finding finest vittels the Third World could offer.

soda. something universal. until you find the packaging we carry it in nowadays. dont even start me on the flavorings. after looking up and down 3 aisles, i found ZERO 24 can cases of soda. but i did find 8 can packages of CC2 and Edge Pepsi... both something the shitsniffing lowcarb freaks seem to be half-qwenching their carb starved thirsts with... regular mountain dew, in the shit massive quantitiy i desire was AWOL. beer however was plentiful in brands from here to australia, and even some in countries that havent been UN recognized... shouldnt surprise me much though. it is a grocery store; but it too lies deep in the heart of the propaganda machine of the People's Republic of Iowa City. its said that Chairman Mao himself enjoys the Atkins friendly heartattack servivings of beef hearts and carbfree cola to wash it down... 2 from every brand... diet carb frees cant be excluded from the glory of the machine. oh let freedom ring!

i wanted frozen pizza. i like mine cheap. none of that high end shit. something not much larger than a dinner plate, similar to cardboard crust, and maybe fewer toppings than area codes this state has, is about my conditions for a choice. next comes price. im not paying more than a 1.50 for a whole thing. fuck you starving assholes in columbia, who have guilted the loyal coffee drinking public into chalking up an extra 4 dollars per can of beans for you.... may your magic fail you in the frozen pizza aisle! for the most part it does. cheap is in style, as im accustomed to. but the selection seems something anti-pneu-america. 4 toppings! fucking 4. in the home of the brave, champion of all wars weve entered, we live in a society constrained to 4 pizza toppings... who'd a thunk it? i grumble and survey the depth of my exoctic flavorings from pepperoni to cheese, while 4 girls saunter past in outlandishly ho-riffic outfits. "god i cant even eat a whole bagel in the mornings, i feel soooo fat!!" . "oh i like so know how you feel Kimberly-Anne, like i was like going to vommit trying to eat that cup of yougrit before we went to Cancun" they pause brielfly to look at my cart while on entertaining cell phones... "oohhh my god. like who eats a whole box of cereal!" im exasperated by the tantalizing possibilities of beef, and hamburger, too much so to notice them. they continue on down the aisle, succumbing to the godlike stature of some dousche's assistant in the meat counter. still woozy from vast matrix of flavorful goodness, i trudge onward to the deli.

now the deli is an interesting specimen. if any part of the grocery store is marketed directly like a true retail venture, this is the place where its done most poorly. with all the choices of meats... hams, turkeys, bacons, sausages, hams, chicken, beef and hams; its hard to find a reason not to go for something cheap, or something with a funny name, or something dipped in some form of curddeling juice/broth. here, the retail venture should entertain us, speak to us, and lead us upwards in the price point to lead to our inherent sense of sophistication. we should ascend to the finer tastes like a Virginia Maple Top Spiral Cut Ham... as it is plainly superior to your Boiled Hamm [yes, the sign is spelled wrong]. for the consumer, it takes reason to make this jump. the deli entourage doesnt satisfy this. as i approach the bomb-proof tempered glass arena of meats; im privy to "oh hi Kimberly-Anne, like you look totally fabulous" "oh hey girl! i havent seen you since Vito's the other night" a true sign of a professional staff is just reeking in the air here, greeting customers by shared drunken experiences. instead i gaze longingly into the piles of splendor before me....then back to the meats; setting my eyes on Cajun country! who knew that shaved meats would accrue such an interesting taste when in the hands of the bastard children of misplaced Frenchmen!!! but indeed, it is something to behold... the powers of Cajun Turkey truely post it beyond the grasp of the Peppered Meat showcase. "so like, who was that HOT guy you took home?" "oh i dunno, like he was like i dunno... im thinking of a different guy i guess" at this point i thought id make my interjection about the differences in the Cajun Dusted and Cajun Spiced Roast Beef's, but i saw that the intellectual nature of their conversation would make my question all too trivial. i walked away with a simple bag of Peppered Turkey Breast, wondering only for what could have been....

there was a minor mishap in the cold liquids section. something involving my kind words for the stockapes oversight in having no whole milk for me to purchase. which was met with a phillosophic, "uh. dude i dont know" indeed it seems the wisdom of this temple of holy etibles seems beyond my comprehension, as does the myriad of tongues in which their priests address such lay people. frustrated, i issued a vocalitiy to the gods perched atop the Olympus of Freezer Coolers; that fucktards should not be premitted to work in dairy. but my cries went un heeded. ashamed i left for the checkouts.