Tuesday, March 3, 2009
My Grocery Experience
So here I am standing alone in the brightly lit baby food aisle at my local Copp's food super store. I'm debating on whether or not I should try the baby food version of applesauce, or go for the Mott's adult version many miles of aisle over.
I determine I need to weigh the pros and cons to make the best, most educated decision. I surmise that the baby food version of applesauce is probably healthier since it's made for babies. On one hand it probably has breast milk in it, which is great for protein and developing post fetus immune systems, so why wouldn't it help me. Also, I figure, there's less likely of a chance of poisonous or bacterial contamination with this sauce compared to the adult sauce; who wants to poison babies, besides Roseanne Barr?
I'm hastened a bit by a very pregnant woman with an impatient little post fetus tugging at its mother's already taxed maternity blouse. I look at them, then look back at my applesauce, then back at them. I decide to break the ice with the pregopotomus and tell her why it's taking me so long. "Ma'am," fat women like to feel empowered, "I'm trying to make a choice between which applesauce to get. Either I'm going to get this incredibly healthy, breast milk infused variety or the generic run of the mill adult variety. I'm wondering, though, if the benefits outweigh the negatives. Although, as I stand here talking to you I'm gaining some ideas on what I can do with the leftover glass containers of baby food. I wonder if Jung Garden Center still sells seeds this time of year?"
The pregopotmus shifted in obvious anger. I looked up at her. My attention was thrust upon her because of her shifting. "Miss" never assume a hippo is married "I notice that you are growing impatient. I assure you that I will soon be done and that this will all be over sooner if I don't feel hurried." She was about to speak, and realizing that if she spoke it would set a precedent thereby giving her the faulty notion that she was allowed to talk in my presence.
"Listen I don't care that you're a pregopotomi, I have just as much right to this product as you do. I have a weak immune system. I get colds like Shaft gets bitches. So if you don't mind taking a few steps back your large shadow is blocking what ample light we once had; that is until your pro-bese ass decided to pester me".
Pro-bese is a combination of being pregnant and obese.
This didn't leave the beast in a particularly happy position. It did, however, get me free applesauce; for during the commotion between myself, pregnant-Hitler and the store manager, I managed to steal me some of them tiny containers.
Mmm, I can taste the breast.