Monday, May 25, 2009

There's no place like home

This blog started about 4 years ago as a way to let my friends and family know the haps of my life in Cancun. It has since chronicled my sometimes wacky, sometimes mundane, sometimes adventurous and sometimes sedentary daily life. Not one to break tradition, I give you What Happens When I Leave the House.

I was sick and housebound Saturday, so I did my errands on Sunday. I resolved to get past the claustrophobia-fest that is spray tanning (spray tanning is the crack of the tanning industry) (especially for someone as white as me), so I went to the salon, regular-tanned, and then spray tanned (I did better this time, but my feet are a little bit fucked up. It's cool. I'm way tan.). All relaxed, I took advantage of the sunny weather and the hour or so before I started turning colors and decided to do my grocery shopping at the Winco in Tigard.

I usually go to the Winco in Beaverton, where there is more of a, shall we say, Latin flavor. The Tigard Winco is pretty much the same products-wise, and I think it's like twice as big, but I'm guessing they don't sell as much queso cotija or Fabuloso. Anyway, the place was hopping, as the Winco tends to be any given mid-Sunday. Hopping with assholes.

Seriously, what's the gig, Tigard Winco shoppers? Why must you have such a sneer on your face? Why do you not take into consideration the other 14 people milling around the soup aisle when you decide to slam to a stop and spin your cart around to go in the opposite direction? Is it absolutely necessary to crawl completely up my ass as I cruise the aisle at a perfectly acceptable rate of speed? When you could just go around me because there's nobody else in the Latin foods aisle? Cutting corners with no regard for the people that are probably coming around said corner, blocking the bolillos bin completely with your cart, camped in the middle of everything talking loudly on your cell, this Winco had it all. I stopped my cart to let someone go ahead of me and she looked at me with shock and stammered out a "thank you". Seriously, I can't believe how rude people are in public.

To make matters worse, there was some sort of wetness situation in the frozen foods section, that of course I stepped in, and managed to do that whole your-foot-starts-sliding-way-out-in-front-of-you-until-you-either-catch-dry-floor-or-go-into-the-splits thing. I did neither - instead, my shin slammed into the cart, hard, to the point where I was thinking I might be bleeding, it hurt like a bitch, and I had to act all cool like I meant to do it or at least like it didn't hurt. It didn't actually bleed but my good Lord it still hurts tremendously and it's tomorrow already.

The way out of the Tigard Winco was no better - asshole man thinking HE'S doing ME a favor by stopping short to let me by when he was trying to rush up to cut me off to begin with. I actually called him an asshole (and I hadn't even made it to the car yet). Just the traffic to get out of the Tigard Winco is enough to not make me want to go back.

But really, Tigard Winco? No thanks. I'll stick with mi gente at the Beaverton Winco. There may be 200 of you crowding the aisles and tons of unruly screaming kids, but at least you have manners.

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