I was talking to my new friend Eugie today and asked, where can a guy buy a needle? Well, she seemed a little taken aback, not knowing me too well. She asked if I had diabetes. No, a sewing needle, the type you use when you lose a button. She acted like I was adlebrained, a word I've been wanting to use, all of my life. Acting as if I were the dumbest creation on this Earth, she replied, Walmart, Target, Walgreens, CVS..... and continued. Okay, I've got it........... and planned a trip to Target, my second unfavoritest place in the world, Walmart and K-Mart beating it out by just a little.
I spent the day with Eugie yesterday, lunch and she took me to pick up my long-lost Buick at Paul's. I realized, driving the Buick, I didn't have my handicapped placard with me and had to park a good distance from the entrance. It was bright and sunny and 110 degrees and the blacktop parking lot must have been 140, easy. With perspiration pouring from my recently cool dry brow, I entered the cool interior of the store. An audible "whew" could be heard. Wandering around aimlessly, appreciating the air conditioning, I approached the first employee I could find and asked where I could satisfy my sewing needs? Without her breaking stride or a smile, she replied, we don't have much and kept walking. Since she was older and smaller than I, I didn't let her get away with it. I started chasing her asking for a needle and thread at a pretty good clip! She slammed on the brakes, with me almost rear ending her and said, on your left and pointed down an isles. I grabbed the item that was composed of 12 rolls of thread and 3 needles, (all I needed) and gleefully tossed it into my cart. Saw Open Pit barbecue sauce and grabbed one of those too. Hey, I was shopping!
Travelling down several isles, I realized that target was only the wannabee grocery store, that Fry's prices were a lot more competitive, but all I needed was hamburger meat. I searched high and low and I'll be damned if I could figure out, how much fat was in each type, the weight or the price per pound. I got frustrated and left, planning on a trip across the street to Fry's. I HATE my neighborhood. I never realized this when I chose it, but it in not in the better part of town. Looking for my car in the parking lot, a woman approached me from the rear, asking if I could spare any money for her? It felt like being married! Looking at my new friend, I realized she was dressed just like she'd just left the office and a true victim of our economy. Afraid that she might have an accomplice somewhere, and as soon as I took out my money, he'd hit me over the head, I replied, that I'm in the same boat as her. She quickly withdrew and I heard her ask 2 other people before I found my car. I considered that for my next career.
Making my way to Fry's, again parking far away, I noticed that I was the only person within that area that was not heavily tattooed. Women, children, convicts, everyone, just covered with painted arms and legs. One rather shapely young blond girl about 30 years old, wearing tight, skimpy cutoffs and fully tattooed arms and back, crossed my path and I tried to read the message there, but way down deep, I realize those are life long decisions and one that she may regret in future years. Why do I feel like everyones father?
Entering Fry's, I make my way to the meat section, only to realize the grocery stores, none of them, want you to know what they're doing. They are determined to keep the price of innocent hamburger meat, their best kept secret. Fry's didn't even want you to know what they were selling, because the hamburger there was not visible to the human eye. All they show you is a long cylindrical tube, with a picture of hamburger on the outside. Hey, that's damned close to what I'm looking for.
So I see that it's 85-15, meat to fat and it looks like a picture of hamburger meat and all I'm craving is pasta sauce, so I buy it, not knowing how much it costs per pound or how many pounds I'm buying, mostly because the print is too small to read. I grab it, take a wild chance that there aren't dead kitties inside the tube and take it home. I find out it's $9.99 and there are 3 LBS and I get home and do the math. I paid $3.33 a pound for hamburger that I can buy at Costco for $2.99 a pound, but look at all the entertainment!
I spent the day with Eugie yesterday, lunch and she took me to pick up my long-lost Buick at Paul's. I realized, driving the Buick, I didn't have my handicapped placard with me and had to park a good distance from the entrance. It was bright and sunny and 110 degrees and the blacktop parking lot must have been 140, easy. With perspiration pouring from my recently cool dry brow, I entered the cool interior of the store. An audible "whew" could be heard. Wandering around aimlessly, appreciating the air conditioning, I approached the first employee I could find and asked where I could satisfy my sewing needs? Without her breaking stride or a smile, she replied, we don't have much and kept walking. Since she was older and smaller than I, I didn't let her get away with it. I started chasing her asking for a needle and thread at a pretty good clip! She slammed on the brakes, with me almost rear ending her and said, on your left and pointed down an isles. I grabbed the item that was composed of 12 rolls of thread and 3 needles, (all I needed) and gleefully tossed it into my cart. Saw Open Pit barbecue sauce and grabbed one of those too. Hey, I was shopping!
Travelling down several isles, I realized that target was only the wannabee grocery store, that Fry's prices were a lot more competitive, but all I needed was hamburger meat. I searched high and low and I'll be damned if I could figure out, how much fat was in each type, the weight or the price per pound. I got frustrated and left, planning on a trip across the street to Fry's. I HATE my neighborhood. I never realized this when I chose it, but it in not in the better part of town. Looking for my car in the parking lot, a woman approached me from the rear, asking if I could spare any money for her? It felt like being married! Looking at my new friend, I realized she was dressed just like she'd just left the office and a true victim of our economy. Afraid that she might have an accomplice somewhere, and as soon as I took out my money, he'd hit me over the head, I replied, that I'm in the same boat as her. She quickly withdrew and I heard her ask 2 other people before I found my car. I considered that for my next career.
Making my way to Fry's, again parking far away, I noticed that I was the only person within that area that was not heavily tattooed. Women, children, convicts, everyone, just covered with painted arms and legs. One rather shapely young blond girl about 30 years old, wearing tight, skimpy cutoffs and fully tattooed arms and back, crossed my path and I tried to read the message there, but way down deep, I realize those are life long decisions and one that she may regret in future years. Why do I feel like everyones father?
Entering Fry's, I make my way to the meat section, only to realize the grocery stores, none of them, want you to know what they're doing. They are determined to keep the price of innocent hamburger meat, their best kept secret. Fry's didn't even want you to know what they were selling, because the hamburger there was not visible to the human eye. All they show you is a long cylindrical tube, with a picture of hamburger on the outside. Hey, that's damned close to what I'm looking for.
So I see that it's 85-15, meat to fat and it looks like a picture of hamburger meat and all I'm craving is pasta sauce, so I buy it, not knowing how much it costs per pound or how many pounds I'm buying, mostly because the print is too small to read. I grab it, take a wild chance that there aren't dead kitties inside the tube and take it home. I find out it's $9.99 and there are 3 LBS and I get home and do the math. I paid $3.33 a pound for hamburger that I can buy at Costco for $2.99 a pound, but look at all the entertainment!
3 comments:
Come on, please give your new friend a better name than Eugie. That's just ancient sounding...kinda like mine...
Well Bessie, it's because her real name is Ethyl!
Mel
......better than Behula, I suppose.
Or.......... Harriet,Bertha,Gertrude,Hortense, Mabel....
Love, Mona
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