My trip to Trader Joe's: part 2

Entering the store heightens my anxiety for two important (and rather telling( reasons. First, it is always crowded with self-absorbed entitled assholes who do not move out of your way. Second, those self-absorbed entitled assholes are cloaked in the most ridiculous outfits of all time (especially when you consider we are grocery shopping here): furry ugg boots with cut-off jean shorts, enormous camo cargo pants with a 14 inch wide belt, and whiny little 8 year olds in sequined asswriting and tiaras that spell out “princess” over their perfectly coifed little heads; the worst part being that my hands are too full and my position too conspicuous to capture these people onto my memory card. The best I can do is the occasional camera phone shot which hardly does anyone justice (see above).

Wandering into the aisles is another hopeless adventure. There’s the 80 year old woman who is blocking the entire dairy aisle because she’s asking an employee to find her specific brand of yogurt which she can’t see on the shelf because she forgot her glasses since that immigrant cleaning lady moved them last week. Then there’s the 9 year old pigtailed girl who is crying tears of frustration and anger because grandma wouldn’t buy her some lemon mints. She even called her mother on her cell phone and shrieked “grandma won’t buy me mints and they’re sugar freeeeeeeeeeeee!” Next was the idiot who parked her cart in front of the cheese aisle successfully blocking everything from asiago to manchego and in her cloud of cluelessness she picks up her block of brie, puts it in MY cart and walks off (I watched for about 3 minutes as she put tortilla chips, salsa and salami into my cart before I pointed out that it is her cart that is preventing everyone from getting their minimum required intake of calcium, and my cart is the one she is pushing to which she giggled incessantly “oh I’m so sorry hee hee” which was ridiculous because my cart had about 30 items in it and hers had about 6). The most painful for me was the girl who had her phone and sunglasses tucked into her cleavage and there was no way for me to lift my camera phone high enough to get a good shot of it so I just stood there in the checkout line contemplating why anyone would think it was a good idea to use that area as a storage unit. I don’t hold my wallet in my asscheeks, do I?

Needless to say I am so thrilled to get out of there that I not only bag my own groceries but the groceries of everyone in the checkout line in front of me just to speed up the process. I literally run back to the car, throw the food in, and get out of there before disaster can strike. It’s a wonder I can handle this even once a month. I might go on a SuperSize Me diet so my food purchasing encounters will be limited to drive-thru windows only where I can contain my frustrations to the confines of my car.