Tuesday, March 11, 2008

My favorite trader joe became the scene of my worst nightmare.

Maybe not my worst nightmare, but pretty damn bad.

Imagine me, the Trader Joe hoarder that I am, just having finished loading eight (yes, really) boxes of Lentils Madras into my basket. I had just reached for two bottles of organic ketchup when who moseys on by but Shit Fuck Face from dating nightmares past. And he was at MY Trader Joe.

Normally, my instinct* in such a situation is either 1) flee from subject, 2) feign ignorance and pretend not to have seen subject, or if drunk, 3) confront and make out with subject.** In this instance, I went with a 1/2 combo. Flee the isle and ignore having seen subject. Subject, however, ignored the rules of engagement to followed me. Subject further wanted to pose the most absurd inquiry EVER:: "Why didn't you call me?"

My next instinct was to squeeze the hell out of the tubes of ketchup in my hands and squirt organicy tomatoey sugary goodness all over him. But then I thought of how the Ketchup deserved better and instead said:: "Sorry, I got really busy" and walked away.

I was so distracted on my way out that I forgot to grab a bag of my favorite delicious cheesy poofs. =(

*and thereby the proper instinct.

** Option 3 is not recommended.

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