To be frank, March and I don’t get along. I hate winter so badly and expect March to be spring instantly, and usher in warmer air, sunshine and flowers. When this doesn’t happen — and every year it fails to happen because March is still very much winter — I get antsy, frustrated and a little punchy, like jokey and silly in an on-the-brink-of-madness kind of way.
So Tuesday I was super punchy while on a routine trip to the grocery store. I am single and have very few responsibilities other than to keep my cat and myself alive, so I go to the grocery store at least three or four times a week. Why consolidate trips? I’ve got nothing else to do. Monday or Tuesday is when I plan out my week, so I consider that my “big” trip. I get something to make for dinner that will last at least three nights and a few lunches (think gumbo, or something from the crockpot) and then some sort of quick thing to make so I can have at least one night of leftovers. And then the other two nights I eat scrambled eggs. Yes really. I’m going to make a concerted effort to change this whole embarrassing procedure to incorporate more healthful options but it is what it is for now. No judging.
Ok, so Tuesday. I knew it wasn’t going to be an in-and-out thing and that I’d be going up and down every aisle to gather ingredients. But that’s when I found Jesus.
My sweet Mom has an adorable quirk. During a conversation, rather than interrupting, she’ll hold up a finger for each thing she wants to contribute when you’re done talking. She almost never remembers what she was going to say. I really don’t mean to be an insensitive heathen, but doesn’t Jesus look like he just walked into a room and said “Now, why did I come in here? I just needed two things… what were they?”
The longer I stayed at the store, odd items that I have never seen before began jumping off the shelf to me.
WHAT THE HELL IS SALAD CREAM???? There were SO many inappropriate sex jokes running through my mind, involving tossing salad and other gross things that are only funny if you’re a pubescent boy, or me, apparently. But seriously, what is it? Like coleslaw dressing?
Full of dairy goodness? Look at the size of that cow!!! He’s at least 1500 times as large as that poor lad flying his kite. The dairy goodness is surely steroids, or whatever else they’re serving up in Devon. Also, I thought ambrosia was marshmallows, cool whip and fake fruit.
Mediterranean pickles. That are brown and shiny. These are not pickles. They are canned slugs.
I am having trouble understanding what is going on with Hello Kitty in this picture. One arm is through her strawberry basket. One arm is growing out of her clavicle and her third arm is a loaf of bread.
Mr. Brown’s coffee? Racist much? This is literally a caricature of a person with brown skin here to serve you up some bougie iced coffee in a can that you won’t recycle because you don’t care about the earth, you entitled, rich, white bastard.
That’s when I had to put the can down and head to the register. I didn’t buy the iced coffee, Hello Kitty stuff or the salad cream. I really really really wanted the Jesus magazine but I couldn’t justify it. Religious guilt just never goes away, does it?