one time when we were shopping at super jubes, chuck saw something and immediately started cracking up. as soon as i saw this photo of the meat manager, i knew it was the instigator. i'm not sure why this is funny, but it is. not the act of being meat manager and nothing
about the photo, just this lone portrait hanging in the store, wrapped in garland and hidden behind old wisconsin snack sticks.
yesterday i was running some errands and i wandered past subway. just as i was making a mental note to double back for lunch, i caught a glimpse of a man sitting inside with a full palette of condiments dripping from his face.
i got pretty queasy.
while delicious, there is nothing about hellman's and dijon mustard spackled over acne scars that says to me: "hmmm ... subway." no. it said something more like "what? were they out of sweet onion teriyaki sauce, bud?" i tried to shelve the image in a place where i wouldn't find it if i returned for lunch in, say, and hour, but where i could find it if i ever needed to exorcise to contents of my stomach.
awhile later, i returned to the same subway. just inside the door, i glanced to my right and seemingly every single person in the shop was chewing with his/her mouth open. it was like watching synchronized garbage disposals mawing full heads of lettuce.
i'm completely off subway. again.
i saw a man come out of last chance liquor, turn toward the building and do a farmer's blow. for whatever reason, this doesn't gross me out when runners do it. it does when random non runners do, though. enough to dry heave.
i have spent the past two days in a vortex of yuck.
speaking of being off things, i'm off the ghetto spur. sometimes being a regular has it's privileges. sometimes being a regular comes packaged as a belly full of $8 worth of gas station burritos and tiger woods' gatorade and the realization that the employees know you by the sound of your cackle as you spill out of your taxi. social shame. i believe i've played out that hot spot.
i now take my business to the super america. it's closer, and they close at 10 p.m., so there is no logical reason for me to shame myself by drooling over a wheel of roller dogs. no. i never drink before 10 p.m. at super america they will know me by my blue machine naked juice and toilet paper purchases.
today i noticed a handwritten note on the counter:
the gist: an employee wants to know if he should get the area just below his lip pierced. it has turned into a sort of survey, filled with the scribbled thoughts of other customers. it is an archaic version of blog commenting. it was funny as heck.
when i took a photo of it, an employee pointed out their store's christmas tree. then he asked me if i wanted this thing:
"can i use it as a cutting board?" i asked.
"probably," he said.
"ummmm ... then, yeah," i said.
he changed his mind, though. his name is leo.
these are my new people.
look at this snow on our grill. it doesn't even look real. it looks like it's totally faking it. like one of those girls who wears an 800 sweat suit to the gym.