06.14.2004 - 1:24 p.m.
I was grocery shopping the other day and I realized something deeply shameful about myself: I am embarrassed to buy cucumbers.
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Seriously. It's not so much the part where they roll down the conveyor belt thingie, nor the brisk, efficient bleep of the clerk scanning them, but rather it's the selection process. I try and do a quick visual once-over before reaching out, this is key, nonchalantly, in order to give the (true! true!) impression that I simply want the freshest, most tasty vegetable, NOT the longest or bumpiest or the one that most resembles a well known porn star. The chosen cucumber must be quickly dropped into its plastic bag with a limited amount of, you know, cuke handling.
It's not the only item in the produce department that fills me with trepidation, either. Thanks to the wonder of the internet, I now cringe when I pick up ginger root. I was looking up the proper way to peel the stuff a while back when I stumbled upon a site dedicated to "ginger play", which essentially involves shoving the root where the sun don't shine. Ginger root: it's knobby, scratchy, and the peeled part burns your skin - what's not to love? The idea holds about as much appeal to me as rubbing chopped jalapenos into my eyelids, but thank you very much ginger play advocates, now I worry that my habit of picking up a root, inspecting it, and replacing it with something more robust will be construed as a creepy eliminating-the-anal-competition method. Gah.
Tampons are faintly abject, but more so when combined with other menstrual-related purchases. If you're trundling down the aisle weighted down with Super Plus tampons, pantyliners, toilet paper, and a container of Chubby Hubby Ben & Jerry's, you may as well have a t-shirt on that says "Caution: Heavy Flow Ahead".
Condoms, on the other hand, should be purchased as a sole item. You at least have a slight chance of appearing sensual and, mrrrow, spontaneous that way. When tossed into an otherwise boringly laden cart, to be scanned alongside the apples, paper towels, dog biscuits, orange juice, and buttermilk bread - forget it, you're a frumpy old married couple with an actual preferred condom brand.
Oh, and dandruff shampoo. Dandruff shampoo sucks. No amount of cross-purchasing will save your cool from the undeniable lameness that is dandruff shampoo.
Someone should make a tampon/cucumber/ginger/dandruff shampoo mail order package, in plain unmarked wrapping, that you can surreptitiously order online. That's what I'm saying.
Last week, I suggested Audition to my coworker. Apparently he rented it and watched it with friends over the weekend.
Here is a postcard he brought me this morning; cheery marine animal cartoon figures bleating "Welcome to the Oregon Coast!" on one side, his handwriting on the other.
12: 05 AM.
An isolated cabin on the Oregon coast.
Three young men begin watching a movie that will change their lives forever.
"Kitty kitty kitty" will NEVER sound the same to them again.
Thanks for making sure none of us will date until 2005. (At this point, I'm thinking divinity school.)
PS. We may not see any for a while, but at least we know we're not pussies.
Heh. I love to spread the joy.