like chiquita banana i am known for my fresh produce and lies

Cupcake and i have known for a while that if we were ever to find ourselves living in the same city again, the days would be fun-filled, the trees would sing, and we would share a Costco card because our combined consumption of fruit and veg is such that it cannot be sated by the average grocer.

a couple saturdays ago, cupcake and i had one of our Random Epic Walks for Fitness (we’re estimating 5 miles or the death-to-pomeranian equivalent), descended upon a local restaurant’s signature salad like lionesses taking down wildebeest and, wiping balsamic from our lips in the aftermath, found ourselves in the mood for large quantities of affordable fruit.

“are you opening a new card, or do you need to renew an old one?” Costco Girl asks.

we look at each other. Cupcake’s old card is tied to her ex-boyfriend and mine has a photo that looks like this.

bad photo magic makes me look simultaneously like smoking existentialist and scared immigrant

we both want new cards. together! for our new lives in the same city! cupcake has assured me this is possible. if we love each other enough, Costco will say we’re as good as family and give us cards.

we hand over our IDs. Costco Girl says, “To share an account, you must show the same address.”

Cupcake says, “I haven’t updated my license yet.” I’m starting to say the same (mine still reads my parents’ address from my college days) when Cupcake cuts me off. “Since I’m the transplant,” she says meaningfully, “we’ll just go with yours, E-Money.”

“ok…” now I really do look like my old Costco picture. SCARED IMMIGRANT FACE. I don’t lie well. i blush furiously as i copy my parents’ address onto my Costco application with Cupcake repeatedly calling me roomie and thanking me for putting up with her mess around the house. and a voice in my head – was it you, conscience? – is saying SUSAN SAID NOT TO LIE. IT WILL LEAD YOU OFF YOUR SPIRITUAL PATH. watching my karma go to shit, i’m feeling like, aw, my spiritual path. : (

IT’S ALL FOR THE FRUIT.

DOOOO IT FOR THE FRUUUUUUIT.

now we take pictures. in our workout clothes, ungroomed after a 5-mile walk, with maybe balsamic lingering on our faces. cupcake jumps out from behind the backdrop to startle me as i’m taking mine.

now we commence the FRUITING FRENZY. no vegetable matter in the house is safe. we leave no tomato unturned, no kumquat unmolested. there is examining, discussing, sniffing, palpating, ogling and excessive exclaiming.

“SUGAR SNAP PEAS! I LOVE THOSE!”

“STRAWBERRIES! A WHOLE FLAT!”

“MANGOES! I FOUND MANGOES!”

“LOOK AT THIS GRAPEFRUIT! IT’S LIKE A BABY’S HEAD!”

no cart, this is guerrilla shopping. we load up our arms with the peas, strawberries, mangoes and FIFTEEN POUNDS of juicy pink grapefruit. the mission is a success, with minimal casualties. a trickle of strawberry juice stains my workout top.

on the way out, we pick up our freshly cut Costco cards. i check the photo on the back.

bad photo magic turns "startled" into "smug to have a Costco card and bedhead at 2pm in Costco"

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2 Responses to “like chiquita banana i am known for my fresh produce and lies”


  1. 1 Dylan Baker June 23, 2010 at 4:37 pm

    Just wanted to say that I love, love, love the illustration of the disbelieving (at least I think it is disbelieving) banana, which I interpret as having that incredulous, wide-eyed look because it is so shocked (shocked, I tell you) that you would deviate from your spiritual path in order to consume it.

    But hey, we all know that massive quantities of fruit can be so judgmental about our personal life choices. Don’t let it stop you from blogging hilarity like this! Keep it coming!

    • 2 sexualreference June 26, 2010 at 9:36 am

      whatevs. that banana knows it is THAT delicious, that it can lure people from their spiritual path. look at that cocky banana, playing all innocent. as innocent as my use of the phrase “cocky banana.”

      thanks, Digerati! i will continue to do as the fruit says and blog the results. like the pants, the fruit cannot be denied.


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