Tag Archives: Trader Joe’s

saturday shorts

* I saw that guy who told me about his nasty feet today at Trader Joe’s.  I stayed away from him.  I did look at his feet though.  This guy has no idea how much he has impacted my life.

* Packing groceries is a an art form.  When I worked at Sam’s Club (yeah, whatever, Walmart is the devil and all that, but I needed money for the mass amounts of pot I consumed – okay?) back in my freshman year of college I used to take an insane amount of pride in how well I’d pack people’s shit.  Now, when someone half-asses a bag for me – I just shake my head as I analyze their every move.  “Man, no way you go with the eggplant now – the ketchup!  The ketchup now you fool!!!”

* Speaking of grocery stores – have you ever used those self-check out things?  You want to talk about pressure?  There is nothing like when one of these things doesn’t work right.  I was trying desperately to get one to work today, and all it kept saying was, “Please place the item in the bag,” like some kind of fucked-up sadistic grocery robot.  I started to panic.  I could feel people’s eyes boring a hole into the back of my skull.  Sweat was pouring down my forehead and my hands were trembling.  It was fucking terrible.  I’m sure I just lost at least a year off of my life because of that ordeal.

* My dog is chewing on a penis.  I’m serious.  At the pet store today, my girlfriend and I were looking to get him some rawhide, when out of nowhere, the owner of the place says, “Has he ever had a bull-tuggy?”  We both shook our heads no.  The owner then hands him this thing that looks a lot like a rawhide bone, and says, “It’s a bull penis, kind of like rawhide, only lasts longer.”  I said to the guy, “Uh, I don’t think I feel comfortable with him chewing on a penis,” but Jack had already grabbed hold of it.  So now my dog is chewing on a penis.  This is not the way I envisioned my Saturday.


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If any of you have been to the Trader Joe’s here, you know that all the cashiers are extremely friendly.

I don’t know if this is the way it is everywhere, but the one here in New York, they talk to you while they bag your crap.

They seem genuinely interested in the things going on in your life.

Normally, I’d rather not make small talk. I’m just not that kinda dude. But today, when my girlfriend and I went to get all our groceries, I found myself having a conversation with the guy bagging our stuff.

I had just bought a pair of shoes, and he started commenting on them, and I was exchanging pleasant replies the entire time – you know, it’s called Being a Nice Person.

Then he told me about his feet.

He told me that his feet were really small (size 5) and that they had, “huge, protruding bunions” on them from “years of ballet.”

I nodded. I looked at my feet.

Then he told me that his left foot was “much longer than his right” and they looked like “little clubs.”

I said, “Oh. Really?” Because, what the fuck are you supposed to say to something like that? “Little clubs???” What the fuck???

I also, at this point, realized why I don’t like people.

As he said “little clubs” he balled his hands up and held them up side-by-side to me. This, I guess, was the visual aid of his Foot Presentation.

The rest of our encounter went by in an awkward silence.

He knew that he had – perhaps – told me a little bit too much, and I knew – without a doubt – that I would never look at feet the same way again.


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