Posts Tagged 'grapefruit'

carts are for pussies

Snapshot: Standing in Costco, juggling another 15 pounds of grapefruit, a flat of blueberries, a new kind of mangoes, a phone conversation with my mom and unabashed drooling over a $400 faux-leather futon. I get looks from a few people and manage to knock a whole stack of children’s undergarments to the floor. (Only at Costco would there be stacks of miniature underthingies to knock on the floor.)

Checking out with what turns out to be $30 of just solid produce.Yeah! I am a food-pyramid-eating MONSTER! An oddity of nature and excess!

“Just a few things for you today?” Costco Girl asks.

Just a few things? I look at my purchases. It never occurred to me that when the mountain of fruit I am about to carry out to my car raised eyebrows it would be for being such a small mountain of fruit. Deflated, yes I admit to only having enough purchases to fill up just one huge toilet paper box.

Costco operates on a whole other level of excess. I can’t compete.

America, you’re weird sometimes.

my anger has a color and it is grapefruit

Digerati and Pants have both told me they want a picture of me buried under 15 pounds of grapefruit. Why? Because despite my eating of MAJOR CITRUS daily, I have again caught a cold. I just had an epic cold last month. I was at death’s door for THREE WHOLE DAYS of sick time. That is long enough for my place of work to forget me. Maybe it’s not long enough at your job. Maybe I am just forgettable. All the more reason why I can NOT afford this cold.

What was it, fate? Was it the dirty means by which I acquired this grapefruit? What, the epic walking and olympic swimming and increasingly early bedtimes not enough for you, immune system? Well fuck you, white cells. I don’t see YOU doing such a great job! I can’t do this health thing all on my own! I’m sleeping at 10 and walking at 8 and hoovering sour citrus and choosing salads over fried breading and popping vitamins and drinking water and crossing my ever-fucking fingers in the hopes I won’t catch EVERY STRAY WIMP-ASS GERM that passes near my nose-holes. And there’s a lot of them, immune system. So I’m sorry. I am sorry I work with germy children. I’m sorry I get spat on and snotted on and sometimes I can actually SMELL the grubby hands that hand me things. And speaking of hands, my nephew stuck his hand in my mouth on Friday. What was I supposed to do about that, immune system? How do you see a crazy move like that coming before it’s too late? You don’t. That’s what immune systems are supposed to be for. Grabby babies with oral fixations.

So I will NOT draw a picture of grapefruit burying me. I will draw a picture of my rage, world. And it goes a little like this:

That’s my IRONTEAM shirt. It is soaked with sweat and tears. And grapefruit-tinged angry spittle.