Aug
11
August 11, 2007
Okay, Whole Foods-lovers, don’t go getting your organic sustainably-harvested cotton undies in a knot — I like their stuff just fine, especially their insanely wonderful selection of chantrelles and their salmon-cream cheese spread and their mango salsa. I do, however, reserve the right to bitch about 1) their Kleenex selection, which is limited to Seventh Generation and I don’t care how great that shit is for the earth, it will rip your nose-flesh right the hell off, and 2) the fact that I can’t make it out of there without spending at least $100.
Oh, and the shopping experience itself kind of blows. Maybe it’s just my local store, but my fellow shoppers always seem to be sort of . . . you know when you’re pushing your cart down an aisle, and there’s someone standing smack dab in the middle staring at the selection of Spinach-Paprika Puffs or whatever, and they don’t move? Until you finally clear your throat and say, “Excuse me,” and they have the nerve to look annoyed? I don’t know, my store seems full of these folks, and I can tell you from personal experience that if you try and squeeze your cart as close to the edge of the aisle as possible so you don’t cause any further annoyance to Healthy McShithead, the eagle-eyed toddler in your cart seat is going to end up shoplifting at least seven cans of Annie’s Certified Organic “P’sghetti Loops with Soy Meatballs” , which he is not even going to EAT.
Anyway! Enough about Whole Freaking Foods. Did you know I grow my own tomatoes and thus am a fine upstanding citizen after all? Well, sure, they’re green and tiny and seem to be suffering from some sort of blight, but still. Why, if I had to live off the land . . . um, yeah, we’d be fucked. Can you grow a Two-Bite Brownie plant? I’m just wondering.
Also, the boy has entered a new stage of toddlerhood. I call it All Weird, All The Time.
Aug
10
August 10, 2007
I visited Whole Foods with Riley this afternoon where immediately upon entering the store he snaked out a lightning-fast tentacle from the cart and grabbed the entire contents of a toothpick container on a produce sample table, once I wrestled every single pointy, stabby pick out of his surprisingly impenetrable paw, he lunged the other direction and managed to grip onto a Stability Orange from a large pyramid-like display of fruit, nearly causing a massive tropical catastrophe; I quickly rolled us out of the vegetation and into the dry goods where I was forced to choose organic yogurt-and-barley-infused ultra-expensive dog and catfood because Whole Foods doesn’t carry Purina, they carry Newman’s Own, the contents of which probably include ground-up hippies and pretzels and hundred dollar bills; the next aisle I visited contained many boxes of cereal but not one single box of Cinnamon Life, everything was gluten-free and featured whole grains and millet and powdered tofu sweetened with carob; I moved on to the dairy section and a woman buying kefir sniffed at my Go-gurt choice; when I finally battled my way through the health-conscious, aisle-hogging, Porsche-Cayenne-driving crowd to pay, my total came to $116.04, and I only had two motherfucking bags.
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