the problem with gourmet groceries.

So today Soleil and I venture to a more well-developed area, one that is home to a Trader Joe's. It's Saturday afternoon, we thought, of course they won't be so very busy. Ha! We are fools, Soleil and I. But it's that kind of gray, cold, dreary winter day and we needed to do something to perk ourselves up. Besides, we had a totally yum recipe from cooking light to buy for, and some wine, too. Trader Joe's! we cried, and embarked. i mean, who completely shops at trader joe's for everything? isn't it the kind of place you visit only when you need some greek yogurt, tiny frozen cubes of cilantro, soy mayonaise, and wonton chips?

okay, so, sign number 1 this was a bad idea: totally full parking lot.
okay, so sign number 2 this was a bad idea: the store, upon entering, resembled a zoo, a zoo of small suburban children.
okay, so sign number 3 this was a bad idea: no one was apparently minding the zoo-children.

why, why, why do well to do suburbans moms think their children should come above all else? soleil and i were on a quest for shredded part skim mozzarela. a young mom, with her two tow-headed kids in tow, a cart chock full of stuff (whole organic chickens! waffles! trader ming asian tasty delights! buffalo burgers!), a list about a half mile long in her hands. the kids scooted along the side of the cheese case, reaching in and touching the imported cheeses, begging their mother for laughing cow cheese; she ignored them solidly. as a matter of fact, it was pretty impressive how well she ignored them. but in ignoring them, she also, you know, effectively cancelled out any chance anyone else had of getting within twelve feet of the cheese case.

THEN there was the preteen boy browsing through the wine section, pretending he was old enough to actually be perusing the wines. all he really did was cause a cart-pile up in his wake.

THEN there was the pretend-hip couple stocking up on the two buck chuck. here's a newsflash for all y'all sophisticates out there: two buck chuck is not, nor has it ever been, good. you can pretend all you want, but it's no use. the stuff is crap. it tastes like crap, it smells like crap, it is crap. and when you drink it, bad things happen. after all, a two dollar hangover is what roped me Vegan #2.


but i digress. the next warning sign? kids rushing to and fro in the aisles with mini carts, getting in the way of the big carts, ramming shins.

and don't even get me started on the frozen food aisle!

but hands down, soleil and i noticed, is just how rude, rude, rude the suburban moms and their kids were.

don't get me wrong. i heart organic. i heart trader joe's. but, really, the suburban sophisticates? nothing but trouble. and rudeness. and children who resemble those who live in the corn. seriously, i don't think you're embodying the traits ol' joe would like to see in his customers. tsk. tsk.

as soleil pondered on our drive home, if we let a pack of wild dogs loose in the trader joe's, would they eat the crappy people or the food?