Monday, November 20, 2006
You are pulled from the wreckage, Of your silent reverie
There is a lack of space in Manhattan. This conclusion asserts itself in many ways- the kitchen in my apartment, the scant few inches of space for my body at a table in my favorite Mexican restaurant, sidewalks in mid-town during rush hour, Rockefeller Center during the Holidays and Fairway.
Fairway is a semi-gourmet grocery store with teeny tiny aisles and masses of customers. On a normal Saturday/Sunday it is unbearable (my best friend, Karen, has yelled at more than one person during her weekly shopping expeditions here). The Sunday before Thanksgiving was a previously unexperienced level of pure, undiluted hell that should be reserved only for inmates on Death Row. At one point it literally took me 10 minutes to navigate 10 feet and resulted in not one but TWO screaming matches with other patrons. One of those screaming matches was with a seriously fashion-challenged bitch (she was wearing a hat! I have a very strong opinion on hats and it's that no one should wear them except for my best friend who is the ONLY person I know that can pull off a hat as a fashion statement. All the rest of us should wear them only as a means to keep warm and then remove them as soon as they are no longer necessary), so I don't feel one iota of regret about that. I had planned to buy some fruit and various other nutritional and healthy snack items. I walked out of the store with ONE item- lite havarti with dill. And that's only because the cheese section was not filled to overflowing with people. I spent the rest of the time banging my cart into the backs of other people (its very difficult to gauge the distance between the person in front of you and the metal bar at the front of the cart. The result is a LOT of bruised ankles) trying to just get to the checkout and then standing in line while Karen finished her shopping.
It was UNPLEASANT. To say the least.
I will be finishing my thanksgiving shopping at Fresh Direct. Thank you very much.
Despite the holy terror that was grocery shopping yesterday, it was a very therapeutic weekend for me. I spent a lot of time with my bestest of friends, I went shopping and fit into a size that I haven't fit into in a LONG time and I got a makeover at Sephora that made me feel beautiful again.
Todays Title from: Angel by Sarah McLachlan
Fairway is a semi-gourmet grocery store with teeny tiny aisles and masses of customers. On a normal Saturday/Sunday it is unbearable (my best friend, Karen, has yelled at more than one person during her weekly shopping expeditions here). The Sunday before Thanksgiving was a previously unexperienced level of pure, undiluted hell that should be reserved only for inmates on Death Row. At one point it literally took me 10 minutes to navigate 10 feet and resulted in not one but TWO screaming matches with other patrons. One of those screaming matches was with a seriously fashion-challenged bitch (she was wearing a hat! I have a very strong opinion on hats and it's that no one should wear them except for my best friend who is the ONLY person I know that can pull off a hat as a fashion statement. All the rest of us should wear them only as a means to keep warm and then remove them as soon as they are no longer necessary), so I don't feel one iota of regret about that. I had planned to buy some fruit and various other nutritional and healthy snack items. I walked out of the store with ONE item- lite havarti with dill. And that's only because the cheese section was not filled to overflowing with people. I spent the rest of the time banging my cart into the backs of other people (its very difficult to gauge the distance between the person in front of you and the metal bar at the front of the cart. The result is a LOT of bruised ankles) trying to just get to the checkout and then standing in line while Karen finished her shopping.
It was UNPLEASANT. To say the least.
I will be finishing my thanksgiving shopping at Fresh Direct. Thank you very much.
Despite the holy terror that was grocery shopping yesterday, it was a very therapeutic weekend for me. I spent a lot of time with my bestest of friends, I went shopping and fit into a size that I haven't fit into in a LONG time and I got a makeover at Sephora that made me feel beautiful again.
Todays Title from: Angel by Sarah McLachlan
Labels: New York
Posted by Chloe
at 11:06 AM |
Permalink to You are pulled from the wreckage, Of your silent reverie |
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